Growing Pains
by shedoc
Summary: Harry discovers that every cloud has a silver lining, but why does he keep getting sick?
1. Chunk 1

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

Each step away from the little crowd on the platform hollowed Harry out. His uncle's fuming silence, his aunt's manifest disapproval, his cousin's outright loathing closed in around Harry like a living, breathing cloud, and it was Harry could do to put one foot in front of the other. He wanted to balk, to turn and run, to fling himself at the one person he felt safe with, and beg to stay with his safe harbour. He couldn't though, he didn't deserve to. He didn't deserve the protection of the one he trusted, especially after he'd led them straight into danger, straight into pain and fear.

They didn't return to Little Whinging straight away. Apparently, Smeltings had a policy that the students in their final two years of school were to use personalised stationery, available only from a particular store in London. His aunt and uncle were taking Dudley to order his stationery for the next two years, and Harry was to come with them, as he wasn't to be trusted in the car.

"May I let Hedwig out?" he asked as his uncle switched the engine off, "She could fly to Privet Drive, and that way no one would see her in your car."

"Very well," Aunt Petunia said through stiff lips and Harry undid the cage quickly. Hedwig hopped silently onto his wrist and he smiled at her, sliding out of the car and walking to the edge of the parking building while stroking her feathers. She nibbled his fingers anxiously and he shushed her gently.

"Wait in a tree in the back, Hedwig, I'll let you in the moment I get there," he whispered, "Safe flight."

She hooted and launched herself obediently, arrowing away into the bright sky. Harry turned and fell in behind the Dursley's, walking silently close enough not to lose them, but not close enough to 'intrude'. He stopped outside the door of the shop they were about to enter and moved to the edge of the footpath, prepared to wait outside for them. His uncle gave him a sneer of approval and Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, his fingers brushing his wand for a moment. It was hot and airless on the street, as though there were too many people breathing the same air. Shoppers and tourists thronged along, well dressed and pleased with themselves. Harry watched them all, evaluating them for possible threats. One little old lady dropped her bag in front of him and he grinned, picking it up and offering it to her politely.

"Wotcher Tonks," he muttered, "Stuck watching me already?"

"Thanks ducky," Tonks replied sourly and walked on a little way. He deliberately looked away from her, so as not to draw attention to her.

By the time the Dursley's emerged, Harry's shirt was sticking to him and he felt decidedly unwell. Dudley was smirking at him in a very satisfied manner, which meant he'd just got a present and Harry had not. Harry was used to that and it no longer bothered him. His aunt peered at him and then shoved the bags she was carrying into his hands.

"Carry these and don't complain and you can have one of the free samples they gave us," she snapped and Harry trailed along behind obediently, not at all interested in the bribe, though he was aware that she had spoken at a higher volume than she normally did. They must have suspected that they were under surveillance and this was their version of treating Harry well.

He spent the ride to Privet Drive staring blankly out the window. Dudley was whining about a new game he wanted, and trying to get an increase in his spending money yet again. Vernon was complaining about the new accountant in his department, and Petunia was griping about the next door but one neighbour who was having an affair while her husband was away. By the time the car pulled into the Dursley's driveway, Harry was longing for the silence of his spot by the lake at Hogwarts. He lifted Hedwig's empty cage and his trunk from the car, carrying them up to his room and opening the window to allow his owl in. He filled her water container and put out food and owl treats for her before toeing off his shoes and sitting on his narrow bed.

"Here," Aunt Petunia threw a book onto the floor, bound in dark blue leather, "This is the free sample we were given. Ugly thing."

"Thank you Aunt Petunia," Harry said tonelessly and got up to put the book on his desk. From what he could remember of Muggle stationery it was A4 sized and had been divided into five sections by a thick textured blue cardboard. The pages were lined faintly in blue and the paper was high quality. Harry returned to his bed and sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

In his mind he wasn't in the small room that his relatives had grudgingly allowed him, he was back in the Department of Mysteries, watching Sirius fall through the veil, orphaning him once more. Harry forced his mind to review the year, and step-by-step he recognised his mistakes, making himself a solemn promise that he would do better the coming school year.

Mistakes acknowledged; Harry turned his mind to the prophecy. The prospect of becoming a murderer filled him with dread, though the thought that he would be leaving the world to Voldemort's rule upon his death was no better. The problem was that Harry had no idea of how to kill the vastly powerful wizard. Just the memory of his one experience with casting an Unforgivable curse made him feel physically ill, and indescribably dirty. No matter what he'd been feeling at the time, the attempt to cast the Cruciatus Cruse on Lestrange had been a huge error, and one that he'd never be able to repeat. If he sank to their level in ridding the world of their poison, he was no better than the Death Eaters and their Lord.

Dumbledore expected him to fight on the side of the Light, against the Darkness. Dark and Light had fought against each other for time immemorial, and Harry knew it was an overused cliché, but neither one could exist without the other. No matter how brightly Light shone, eventually it would dim enough to allow the Dark to creep back in. Dark had its ways and its tools, and Harry knew that there was no excuse to start using the Darks own tools against it. Light couldn't win that way, and shouldn't try.

That meant he had to find another way to defeat Voldemort. Another series of spells or tools had to exist somewhere that Harry could use without lowering himself to Voldemort's levels. He banged his head on his knees, and wondered why he hadn't given up Divination with Hermione and taken Arithmancy instead. He'd give anything to know more about the structure of spells and the way they combined with the casters magic to produce the results desired.

Harry leapt from his bed and stumbled to his trunk on shaking legs. He yanked out parchment, ink and quill, using the top of his trunk as a table to write on. He'd send a letter to the Professor of Arithmancy and ask if he could be included in the OWL level classes. He'd study with the fourth years if they'd let him, anything to learn more about the way the spells worked. Hedwig fluttered to his side and he fastened the letter with shaking fingers, giving her directions in a soft voice.

Harry pulled himself up, wondering why he was so shaken. He'd just been sitting on his bed … Harry frowned and headed downstairs to the living area. His aunt was wearing different clothes and Dudley was playing the game he'd been whining for.

"Finally decided to join us?" his Aunt snapped, "You've been sitting like a statue for three days!"

The reply to his request was a favourable one, and Harry was allowed to study Arithmancy, provided he could pass the third year exams upon his return to Hogwarts. As a mark of confidence, the teacher sent Harry a copy of the third and fourth year books from Flourish and Blotts, and Harry started studying hard.

He decided that he'd use the free gift the Dursley's had given him to record his studies in, and used the sections of the book to keep his studies separate. They hadn't been given any homework this year, because the teachers didn't know what their OWL results would be and therefore had no idea what subjects they'd be taking. The first section of the book Harry used to take notes on Arithmancy in general. Though he was in the habit of writing on the books he owned - scribbled notes dotted the margins of all his schoolbooks - Harry had soon discovered that his notes would need to be a lot more detailed than in previous years. He'd also decided to go back to first year and pull apart each spell they'd learned, mapping out the Arithmancy of each one. He'd do this for all five years of his schooling for Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, with the final section of the book a combination Herbology and Potions, as many plants had magical properties in their own right and combining them into a potion required a deep understanding of all their interactions.

Something unusual happened that Harry would have noticed in that first month of study if he hadn't been so immersed in his work. No matter how much he wrote in each section of the free gift, he never ran out of pages. Unintentionally, Harry's magic had surged and cast an infinite spell on the book itself. He would never run out of space, and the book itself was virtually indestructible. Most Witches and Wizards had surges of accidental magic as they grew in their early years. This was one way that their parents learned that their offspring was magical and usually tied into an instinctive desire to prevent an accident or summon a toy that was out of reach. Hogwarts had wards up to prevent these unpredictable surges, as teenagers and their emotions and hormones could make for some pretty impressive chaos if their magic was unchecked. By the time the students graduated, they were better able to control their magic and the incidence of accidental magic was almost unheard of.

As usual there was exceptions to the rule, and Harry was fortunate that he was unaware that he was one of the exceptions. The other exceptions were fairly obvious if you thought about them. Pregnant Witches (and occasionally Wizards) often found that their magic ebbed and flowed in the later stages of their pregnancy, and teenage Witches were not unknown to have monthly problems initially. Then there were the particularly powerful Witches or Wizards who had to 'grow into' their powers. Harry fell into the last category. He hated being different and the scar and prophecy were enough of a difference without learning that he was also about to inherit some pretty impressive powers.

Harry had fallen into a pattern of study that would have alarmed Ron and impressed even Hermione in that first month of the holidays. He was up early, and cooked breakfast for the Dursley's, then spent the day in his room, working on the Arithmancy of the spells he knew. He would emerge when Uncle Vernon roared 'Boy!' up the stairs and eat his portion of dinner quickly before heading back upstairs to study for another few hours. As he wasn't moving around much, the small amount of food he ate was enough to sustain him, though he lost some weight, and by sitting at his desk in front of the window he got enough sunlight to stop his skin from becoming too pale. The members of the Order that were watching him had to have been pretty bored.

Remus Lupin had started writing to Harry every fourth day after Harry's first letter to Ron went unanswered. It had been a crushing blow to think that his best friend in the entire world no longer wanted anything to do with Harry, and he'd very nearly given up on the spot. Only the thought that by giving up he'd let worse things happen to Ron - who was still considered his best friend even if the other teen wanted nothing to do with Harry - stopped him from throwing the Arithmancy study away. Harry was grateful for the werewolf's letters and made sure to tell him that. He dutifully reassured the other man that he was not being mistreated and managed to refrain from asking questions about the Wizarding world - after last year he knew he wouldn't get any answers anyway and didn't want to put Lupin in the position where he had to try and answer impossible questions. He got the Daily Prophet, and read it cover to cover each night before he went to sleep. There was nothing in there to alarm him about Voldemort's movements and the Ministry was continuing to urge the Prophet's readers to constant vigilance. The phrase reminded Harry of Mad Eye Moody.

Three days before his birthday, Harry woke to a mild headache and a general sense of being unwell. The scar on his forehead wasn't hurting at all - it had in fact been oddly quiescent - so Harry shrugged the symptoms off and went about his daily routine. He had a difficult time studying in the evening as his headache had increased, and he went to bed earlier than usual in an attempt to sleep it off. He tossed and turned for most the night, and when his aunt stormed in to find out why he hadn't got up to make breakfast, he was in no condition to reply to her. His forehead was dotted with sweat and his body shook with malaise.

Harry never saw Petunia lock Hedwig in her cage, and nor did he notice her closing the bedroom door, afraid that her family would be blamed for Harry's sickness. By lunchtime his fever was dangerously high and he was too ill to move from his bed to answer even the more basic calls of nature. Nausea had kicked in by nightfall, and when two red headed Wizards popped into his room three minutes after midnight, Harry was lying in a pool of bodily waste, choking on his own vomit and slowly turning blue.


	2. Chunk 2

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

The next thing he knew, Harry was lying propped up on high pillows and listening to the bustle of the corridor outside his room. St Mungo's was right up there with the Hospital Wing on Harry's list of least favourite places to wake up, even though this was the first time he'd been admitted to the magical hospital.

His chest ached and each breath was hard won. It felt as if there was about three pints of glue in his lungs and if he breathed too deeply he ended up coughing up what felt like most of his lung. Remus Lupin had been holding his hand tightly, fast asleep, when Harry woke, and the green-eyed teen had been reluctant to wake the clearly exhausted man. His coughing had done that, and Remus had wiped his chin gently and rubbed his chest in a soothing fashion while Harry wheezed and struggled to regain his breath.

"What's wrong with me?" Harry rasped, and Remus hesitated a moment before sitting on his bed and patting his knee.

"You were choking to death on your own vomit when the Weasley twins found you. The Healers say that because you breathed some of it in, your lungs became infected and you've got pneumonia. They're going to give you a lot of potions for it, and you'll be better in a couple of weeks," the werewolf said it calmly, and Harry was grateful that he didn't try to shield the teen from bad news. He'd had enough 'protection' from Dumbledore.

"By school time?" Harry pressed the issue and Remus smiled and nodded. Harry settled back with a sigh, and smiled in return. He didn't want to be too ill to take the Arithmancy test, and certainly didn't want to miss any of the last two years he had in his home.

"Harry, did the Dursley's get a doctor in to see you?" Remus' voice was cold and hard, and Harry tightened his grip on the other man's hand, shaking it slightly to get his full attention.

"I think they were so worried that they'd be blamed for it that they hoped I'd get better by myself. It came on pretty quickly, and I don't think I was too bad at first," he cleared his throat and Remus reached for the glass of water, supporting it as Harry sipped from the glass and savoured the cool relief.

"Well, we'll deal with them later," Remus growled, "Now, Dumbledore wanted you to go to Grimmauld Place the moment you were released from here, but Molly threw a fit the likes of which I've never seen before. You'll be going to the Burrow tomorrow and stay there until its time to go to the school."

Harry heaved a sigh of relief, which set off another round of hacking coughs, leaving him tired and enervated at the end. Remus fussed over him, settling him back into the pillows and smoothing the blankets before resuming his chair and taking Harry's hand once more. The contact was unusual, but Harry was glad the other man felt he could just reach out like that. He was Harry's last link to his parents and the reverse was also true for Lupin. The former professor stayed quiet and Harry slid painlessly into sleep.

He woke again when Fred tripped over the now empty visitors chair, and George told his twin to be more careful.

"I'm awake," Harry mumbled. The twins straightened in the half gloom and Harry realised it was quite late at night.

"Sorry Harry..."

"We just wanted to check in on…."

"Our bit of salvage…"

"On our way home from the shop."

"No problem," Harry reached for the water glass, and Fred handed it over straight away. He took a sip and smiled at the anxious redheads.

"Thanks for the rescue," he put the glass back, "I must have looked a mess."

"Well, we've seen you look better…"

"Not much better mind…"

"But that's not why we're here."

"What's wrong? Is everyone alright?" Harry clenched a hand into a fist and Fred reached out and patted it. George sat in the chair that his brother had knocked over then righted, and Fred perched on the edge of Harry's bed.

"We're all fine, mate…"

"Unless you count Ron…

"He's in a right state…"

"You see mum and dad took Gin-Gin and Ronnikins for a surprise holiday…"

"Take their mind off things…"

"Give them a chance to recover from duelling Death Eaters…"

"And brains…"

"All that good stuff…"

"We miss out on all the fun…"

"Anyway, when they got back…"

"Late in the evening the day before your birthday…"

"They found the letter that you'd sent to Ron…"

"Which Hedwig posted under the kitchen door…"

"Because they'd put wards up to prevent the post owls from finding them while they were away…"

"Ron was in a right state…"

"Apparently Pig was over tired to take a delivery and you know how bad Errol's getting…"

"He'd be more use as a feather duster now…"

"Anyway, he started creating about how you'd think he hated you…"

"And how he'd let you down…"

"Until mum and dad were ready to stun him just to get some peace…"

"We offered to do it…"

"But mum yelled at us…"

"I tell you, we're totally unappreciated in our time…"

"In the end we agreed to pop over to your place to reassure you…"

"Of course you weren't exactly in a fit state for company by then…"

"What with being blue and all…"

"So we trundled you off to the hospital…"

"And called Dumbledore…"

"Once the Healers said you were out of danger Mum went to get your things…"

"And amazingly enough…"

"She left the Dursley's house still standing…"

"Hedwig's already at the Burrow…"

"Being spoilt rotten by Ginny…"

"And now you know it all…"

"Regular town criers, us!"

"Thanks," Harry grinned. The twin's double talk annoyed the living daylights out of some people, but he found it refreshing. And the news that Ron hadn't hated him for the first month of the holidays, but had been away incommunicado was also welcome news.

"So can we tell little Ronnikins that his best mate is still talking to him?"

"Of course," Harry was amazed that anyone would think otherwise. He'd be Ron's best friend for as long as the red head would let him. He'd like to be more, but that wasn't likely to be on the cards any time soon.

"Well, then, you'd better get back to sleep…"

"And we'll be off…"

"If you're doing better by tomorrow the Healers will send you to the Burrow…"

"So we'll see you there for dinner…"

"Good night," Harry smiled and leaned back into the pillows. He chuckled when George knocked over the chair this time, and that led to a round of hacking coughs. By the time he'd regained his breath he was exhausted and slipped back into sleep.

Hedwig hooted as the door opened and Harry glanced up from the book he'd propped on his knees. The was his second week at the Burrow and Mrs Weasley had yet to let him get out of bed to do anything other than answer the call of nature. His lungs were much improved, as Wizards potions seemed to be much stronger than Muggle antibiotics, and every third day a very sour and drab Healer stopped by to look him over and treat him with a spell that made Harry sleep for fifteen hours straight.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron shut the door and handed over a bottle of butter beer, keeping one for himself as he sat on the bed with him, leaning into Harry's raised knees, wrapping an arm around them comfortably.

He'd brought Hedwig to Harry the day after he'd arrived and Harry had reached up without thinking to pat Ron's arm. The redhead had plonked himself on the bed and helped Harry calm his almost hysterical owl. Harry had asked about Ron's holidays in an effort to break the silence, and apparently it was the right thing to do, as Ron had launched into a spirited recount of his month, all tension and discomfort gone from his face. He hadn't moved from his perch next to Harry, and since then his seat of choice was on Harry's bed, preferably leaning next to or on him.

"Fine," Harry nodded, toasted Ron with a gesture of thanks and took a sip. Ron's birthday had been yesterday, and he was disappointed that Harry had spent his birthday in the hospital. Harry didn't mind, he'd never had a party before and on the whole placed more stock in Ron's birthdays than his. He usually managed to slip Ron a present before they split up for the summer, or if not he gave it to Ginny to present with the families.

"You're serious about the Arithmancy thing," Ron commented, flicking the edge of the blue leather book with a finger. Harry nodded and ran the cold bottle over his cheek for a moment.

"I can't tell you why here," Harry decided, "But I will at school, the first chance I get. Can you wait that long?"

"Harry," Ron rubbed the thigh his hand was resting on, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. Harry was glad that he had a book in his lap to disguise the sluggish interest below his waist, and was grateful that the potions he was taking had him too tired for more active pursuits. Ron meant the touches innocently - they'd never really bothered keeping personal space separate from each other, and were in the habit of borrowing each other's things besides. He was recalled to the present when Ron kept speaking.

"You don't have to tell me anything. If you want to study Arithmancy then you should. Just be prepared for Hermione's reaction. In fact, if you time it right you could probably get her to faint or something."

"Nice, Ron," Harry grinned and sipped from the bottle in his hand. He'd learned to take small quick swallows after nearly choking on some soup he'd been savouring his first night there. Mrs Weasley had been beside herself, though Ron had simply supported Harry through the hacking coughs, and held him in the aftermath that left him gasping for air and shaking violently. The Weasley's had given him Percy's room so he wouldn't wake Ron in the night - a decision he approved whole heartedly of - and placed a muffling charm on the room as well. He could make himself heard if he needed help, but could cough at night safe in the knowledge that he wasn't keeping the whole house up.

"Hey, you awake? I said, do you want a game of chess?" Ron poked his chest and Harry blinked at him. Hedwig hooted from the headboard, which she only left for hunting and hygiene purposes, and Harry turned his head to smile at her.

"Yeah I'm awake," he told Ron, "Chess sounds good."

"Getting a bit bored with bed?" Ron laughed and got up. The chessboard was on the dresser and Harry put his books and quill away, folding his legs Indian fashion and shifting against the pillows.

"Just a lot," he grinned, and Ron grinned in sympathy. Neither one of them was lazy by nature, though they didn't mind skiving off now and then.

"Mum says you can get up next week," Ron settled on the bed and started setting up the chessmen, and Harry pulled a face, "The reason we're being so careful of you mate, is that the Healers can't figure out what made you so ill. No one wants you to get sick like that again."

"I don't either. That doesn't mean I'm happy to stay in bed for weeks on end," Harry ran a hand through his hair and Hedwig hopped onto his shoulder with an annoyed hoot. She began picking his hair over, and Ron laughed at them both.

"Hedwig must have been a hairdresser in a previous life," he teased Harry who grinned. He didn't mind that his owl 'mothered' him a little. She was often his only contact with the magical world, and sometimes it felt like she was the only one who cared if he lived or died.

Harry lost at chess rather spectacularly, and pretended to sulk while Ron packed it away. Ginny joined them with a letter from Hermione, who was spending the holiday with her parents. Harry thought that her letters sounded a bit distant, and he hoped that the events at the Ministry hadn't damaged their friendship. The gossip session broke up when Mrs Weasley called her children to dinner, which meant that Ron went to fetch the dinner tray for himself and Harry.

With dinner over, Harry settled back into his studies, so Ron could go outside and enjoy the last of the sunlight for them both. Harry had insisted that his friend do more than just sit with him, especially in the first few days when all he'd done was sleep and cough. Ron had given in reluctantly, but Harry knew that if they were both stuck in that room without a break then they'd have started bickering.

Ron wandered in at about midnight, and climbed into bed with Harry casually. He made Harry put the books away and then snuggled close, took a deep breath and fell asleep. The first time this had happened he'd been supporting Harry during a particularly vigorous coughing fit and had simply curled up and dropped off while Harry got his breath back. Harry had lain awake, unwilling to move in case Ron woke up and shouted at him. Ron had woken the next morning and gotten up as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and every few nights since, he'd wandered into Harry's room and shared the bed. Harry accepted the unexpected gift of Ron's presence and treasured every moment of it, storing it away in his memory against the time that he was once more alone. Ron didn't appear to mean anything by the action, or if he did it wasn't the deeper meaning that Harry craved.


	3. Chunk 3

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

"Alright, Harry?" the twins cheerful greeting broke his concentration and Harry look up with a grin. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon.

"My heroes!" he declaimed dramatically, getting smirks and laughs in reply as they dropped down on either side of him. It was cool in the shade, though the sun was hot enough to make Harry glad he was wearing shorts and a tee, even if they were the twins' hand-me-downs that Mrs Weasley had fished out for him. He'd never had new clothes in his life, with the exception of his school robes for Hogwarts. He preferred the hand-me-downs because at least they were comfortable and a little shabby. It didn't matter if he got grubby in them, and because they weren't new any little damage he caused didn't matter.

"You're looking a lot better than you did when we rescued you…"

"Yes, you do us credit now."

"Anything for you two," Harry batted his eyes at them and grinned when they jostled him, taking away his books and quill. He was leaning against a tree, with an old cushion at his back to protect him from the bark. The twins looked like they were going to take the cushion too, and hit him with it, but he wasn't too worried. They'd never treated him like he was fragile or precious, and he appreciated that. When things had been at their worst with the student body at Hogwarts, the twins had teased him as mercilessly as they treated the rest of the family.

"So what do you want?" Harry raised his eyebrows and George gasped and clutched his chest in pretended pain while Fred buried his face in his hands and gave out a mock sob.

"How cruel…"

"We grace you with our company…"

"Take time out of our busy schedules…"

"Just to come and see you…"

"Spend time with an old friend…"

"Who we rescued at his worst hour…"

"And you wound us grievously…"

"With your cold hearted suspicions."

"Mmmm," Harry folded his arms and bit down on a grin when they squirmed. They were always up to something; it was just a matter of figuring out who their target was. He was pretty sure it wasn't him, because their mother would hex them into next week if they did something to trigger his cough. It was a lot better, and he had more energy now, but at night and if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to be, the cough plagued him. Ron slept through it on the nights that he slept with Harry, and Harry was relieved. Bad enough that he got little sleep without Ron being disturbed too. Besides, he didn't have the strength to send Ron away when the redhead crawled into his bed. The rare comfort and love was precious and not to be wasted.

"Ok, ok, we give in!" Fred sighed, "You're as bad as dad!"

"Who do you think taught me?" Harry laughed, and then coughed. Mrs Weasley could nag anyone into submission, but Mr Weasley had this patient air and look that wore down even the twins. Harry wiped his mouth and leaned back to catch his breath, smiling at his worried friends and shrugging off their concern.

"Dumbledore and Professor Lupin are in the kitchen. They're talking to Mum and Dad about you," George said finally, and Harry frowned.

"Apparently there's a few family legacies waiting for you as you come of age, and the first one is about to pounce," Fred sighed, "From what we can gather there will be others as you get older, and Lupin wants you told about it all now. Dumbledore doesn't think you need the aggro and he's asking what Mum and Dad think."

"What do they think?" Harry asked. The twins would know if anyone did.

"Mum thinks you should know but doesn't want you to have to deal with it now, and Dad is all for telling you some of it now on the condition that he and Lupin help you out with it all," George replied with a shrug, "And before you ask, we don't know what it is."

"I'd better go and find out then, right?" Harry sighed and got up. He collected his books from Fred and George picked up the cushion and old rug he'd been sitting on. Ron had been with him, but had gone inside to help his father fix a window that had been broken in the front room.

He put his books on the dresser by the door and walked into the hug that Remus offered him. The werewolf had been very affectionate with Harry over the last few weeks, offering hugs and other friendly touches. Harry was glad for them because they reassured him that Lupin didn't blame him for Sirius' death. Harry dropped into a seat beside Lupin and glanced around the table.

"So what's happening?" he asked bluntly, aware that the adults were at odds from their expressions and that Ron and Ginny were just confused. Dumbledore shifted in his seat and Harry fixed the other man with a calm gaze.

"Sir?" he asked pointedly and Molly sighed.

"Harry, dear, once you turned sixteen, part of your inheritance became… well, available to you," she reached across Ron and patted Harry's hand. He smiled at her reassuringly, and Arthur took up the tale. It was no wonder the twins double spoke, after growing up with parents who could finish each other's conversations and thoughts, though the Weasley's rarely did so in public.

"Apparently, Harry, there is quite a bit coming to you over the next five years, but the first part of it is to assume some of your business duties. You won't be alone though, if you agree to it, then Professor Lupin and I will help you out."

"I can't think of anyone better," Harry smiled, "Are you sure it won't be too much of a bother? You're already housing and feeding me."

"Nonsense," Molly snapped, "You're a Weasley in everything but name."

"Really?" Harry breathed and grinned at them. The people around the table were stunned at the sheer joy that radiated off the green-eyed teen in response to that simple cross statement. Family was something Harry had always wanted, and Ron's was the best family he'd ever met. That they considered him a part of them was a gift Harry had never dared hope for.

"Prat," Ron slung an arm around Harry, "Of course you are."

Harry leaned into the teen and grinned at everyone. The twins pretended to get all misty eyed and threw themselves at him with mock sobs and rough hugs. Harry fended them off and Ron joined in, roughing up his hair and tickling. It looked like developing into a full-blown wrestling match if the family matriarch hadn't intervened.

"Boys!" Mrs Weasley snapped.

"Sorry mum," they all chorused. Harry blushed and straightened his clothes, and Mrs Weasley smoothed his hair in approval.

"So, what do I have to do?" Harry asked and Remus smiled at him gently.

"Your great-great grandfather, Henry Potter, started a company that manufactures brooms, Harry. As the sole heir of the family, you're to take over the full directorship upon reaching age in our world. The trust is set up so that you have a year before you take over, like an apprenticeship so you can learn the ropes. The company needs to meet you and discuss the upcoming year," the werewolf laughed at the gape on Harry's face and Ron perked up in interest.

"You own a broom company? Which one?" he asked, jealousy tingeing his voice. Harry looked at him in concern, Ron had always been jealous of Harry's wealth and status, though Harry never flaunted them and would rather not have them.

"Cleansweeps," Dumbledore said and the twins howled in jealousy.

The board had not been impressed. Harry had taken one look at the sour faces and grumpy frowns and sat quietly through the meeting, letting them talk, reading through the parchments that they'd given him and scribbling notes in the margins as was his habit. He'd been silent for the most part, fully aware that these seven witches and wizards knew more about the business of making brooms than he did. It wasn't until they started debating how they were going to combat the niche that Nimbus and Firebolt had carved out for themselves in the sporting brooms market that Harry spoke up. He was actually surprised that no one had tried this before.

"There are four positions on a Quidditch team and each one has different requirements from their brooms. The Firebolts and Nimbus are hybrids, designed to be usable in each of the four positions. If you wanted to try to break into that market, then you should consider making brooms specialised to the four positions on a Quidditch team," he'd said without looking up from his notes. Harry had a lot of fun describing the argument that followed to Ron, who laughed himself breathless, as well as the final decision that the prototypes would be tested at Hogwarts, provided they could get school and parental approval of the trials.

"That would be wicked!" Ron had breathed, and Harry chuckled, "Even if we didn't all get a new broom each, the opportunities…"

"They'll want to test the new brooms against the competition and their own product, so it's unlikely that Slytherin or Gryffindor will get the new brooms. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are the most likely candidates, but either way, I'll make sure you at least get a trial somewhere," Harry promised and was relieved that Ron didn't seem upset. Arthur and Lupin had been forbidden by the board members to attend the meeting, probably in an effort to make Harry feel uncomfortable and therefore keep quiet. After his suggestion, though, the board members had warmed to him. Apparently several of them had toyed with similar ideas and a few half finished designs were floating around. It wouldn't take long for them to have prototypes available.

"Fred and George are going to be absolutely sick," Ron grinned happily and snuggled into Harry's side, "Budge up a bit Harry."

Harry budged obligingly, giving Ron more space on Percy's bed. They would be heading to school tomorrow and this would be his last night cuddling with Ron. Ron threw his arm and leg over Harry and fell into a deep sleep. Harry spent a few minutes savouring the touch of his friend and then followed him into slumber reluctantly.

They woke together in the morning and Ron grunted, giving Harry an absentminded pat as he got up and shuffled for the loo before anyone else could bag it. Harry sighed and headed for a quick shower. They'd packed the night before in order to avoid the last minute rush, though it wouldn't be a Weasley departure if at least two people didn't forget something.

The train was about to leave as they burst through the barrier, and Harry shoved his things into the first carriage he came to, while Ginny and Ron ran full tilt for the Prefects car. There was a seat empty in Neville's compartment and Harry said hello to his dorm mate and Luna Lovegood who was sitting with him. She was actually almost sitting on top of him, and Harry swallowed a smile. Hedwig started fussing and fretting in her cage and Harry let her out with a sigh. She immediately perched on his shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek. He stroked her breast lightly and sat carefully.

"You won't be able to do this at school," he warned her and she hooted sadly. Since he'd gone to the Burrow, Hedwig had barely let him out of her sight, and he counted himself lucky to go to the bathroom alone.

"You've been ill," Luna stared at him, and Harry nodded to her, "You look awful."

"I feel much better, though," Harry grinned, "And I'm not taking potions any more, which is a relief. Why can't Healers make medicine taste better?"

"Then it wouldn't be medicine," Neville sighed. He'd also lost some weight these holidays, but he looked good. He'd had a growth spurt and his hair was a little longer than normal. Harry remembered that Neville was now sixteen as well, and had replaced his wand these holidays.

"What sort of wand did you get, Nev?" Harry changed the subject from his health easily, "Was your Gran really mad?"

"Not after Mr Ollivander got through with her," Neville sighed, "He ranted on about how I should never have been given my fathers wand and it was a miracle I'd learnt to perform any magic at all. He kept going on about how the wand chooses the Wizard. I've never seen Gran so quiet."

"What did you end up getting?" Harry asked and Neville pulled the new wand out.

"It's oak and dragon claw," Neville swished the wand and a shower of blue sparks cascaded from the tip, "Mr Ollivander said that he thought it was a mistake after he'd made it, because it's been on the shelf for so long."

"Obviously it suits you," Luna pointed out, examining the ten-inch long, slender wand. Neville nodded and grinned.

"After I turned sixteen I practice every spell we'd learnt from first year on up, and it was much easier this time. Gran walked in on me practicing transfigurations and they all worked pretty well," he boasted. Neville had never been a very strong spell caster, and Harry wondered how much it was because his wand didn't suit him, and how much was because he was all too aware that his father had been a very strong Wizard. With the confidence of a pristine wand, Neville wasn't standing in his parent's shadows any more.

The trolley Witch came around and Harry treated them. He pulled his Arithmancy books out after their snack to get in a last bit of study. He had an important test to take tomorrow. If he failed he might never be able to figure out how to rid the world of Voldemort without sinking to the use of an Unforgivable curse.

"Alright Harry?" Ron's call floated across the common room and Harry nodded wearily. He trudged over to the couches where the sixth years had congregated and slumped to sit on the floor at Ron's feet.

"We were comparing OWL scores," Dean spoke up before either Ron or Hermione could ask if Harry had passed his test, "We've heard all about Hermione's perfect score, and Ron's rotten ones…"

"Oi!" Ron protested, though Dean was only teasing. The red head had gained the right scores to pursue his ambition of becoming an Auror, though it meant that he'd be stuck with Snape for another two years. Harry grinned and admitted that his scores had been similar to Ron's.

"If you don't count getting a double OWL for Defence Against the Dark Arts and an Honours in Charms," Ron poked Harry's head, and he poked his friends' leg in retaliation.

"And spending the summer teaching himself the third year Arithmancy course," Hermione spoke up. Harry regarded her uneasily. She'd been a little distant, though she was happy to see them all again. He was still worried that Hermione blamed him for the circumstances that had led to Sirius' death, hence her distance from him now.

"How did that go?" Ron asked and Harry grinned. That was the one bit of good news he'd had today.

"I'm in; passed the exam with eighty nine percent," he ducked as Ron's hand ruffled his already untidy hair and accepted the ragging of his peers with good grace. Even Seamus was talking to him this year, a bonus as far as Harry was concerned. He settled in place, leaning partially on Ron's leg and listened as the people around him swapped holiday stories. When eventually the chat broke up he gathered Hermione with a look and tapped Ron's foot.

"Come on, I need to talk to you," he muttered and led the way out into the school and along the corridors to the room of requirement. It was furnished with three really big armchairs - or three small couches, depending on your point of view - and one wall was a large window that looked out over the lake.

"So what happened after the test?" Ron proved that once again he was not as simple as he liked to make everyone think. It was easier to get through life if people underestimated you a little; it gave you an edge to use that was especially useful if you were the second youngest in a large family. Harry had known all along that Ron would do well in his OWL's, even if he did have some difficulty learning new skills initially.

"Professor Dumbledore asked to see me in his office once I found out if I'd been accepted to fourth year Arithmancy," Harry sighed, "Snape was waiting there for me, and the minute I stepped through the door he hit me with Legilimency."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, and Ron squirmed out of the overstuffed chair he was in and went to sit with Harry. They had to squeeze together rather closely, and Harry slung an arm around his friend to keep him from tipping out. Ron reciprocated and for a moment Harry pretended that Ron was cuddling him. Hermione was giving them an odd look and Harry wondered what the problem was.

"It wasn't like before, though," Harry frowned, "Before I just saw my very worst memories, but this time it was like… someone was pushing their hand on my forehead."

"So what happened?" Ron's arm tightened around Harry and the black haired teen sighed. Their Potions Master had not been a happy man when Harry was done with him, and Harry had to confess the feeling was mutual. He hated having Snape mess about in his mind.

"I yelled 'no', and Snape went flying. I caught his wand and the… pressure just disappeared. I gave the Headmaster the wand and he helped Snape up."

"Was he hurt?" Ron gloated and Harry shook his head, sharing a reluctant grin with his friend. They didn't wish any real or lasting harm on the Head of Slytherin, even though the man was a pain in the arse on a good day.

"Bruised and shaken. He told the Headmaster that he'd never felt a reaction like that before, so Dumbledore pulled his wand and had a go too. Fawkes caught him before he hit the wall," Harry mumbled and Ron gasped, stunned. Hermione bit her lip, and Harry examined his knees. The last time he'd been in Dumbledore's office he'd tried to trash it. The next time he'd almost hurt the man. He was embarrassed and confused.

"Harry, where did you learn to shield yourself like that?" Hermione got straight to the point and Harry sighed.

"I'm not sure… when we got back to Privet Drive, I went up and sat on my bed to think things over. That was when I decided I needed to learn Arithmancy. I got up and sent a letter, and when I went downstairs to find something to eat my Aunt said I'd been sitting there for three straight days. The Headmaster thinks it was an instinctive protective reaction. He says that I was so upset about failing to learn the Occlumency the first time around that I withdrew and created my own set of mental shields. That also explains why I haven't had any dreams from Voldemort this summer - they just stopped suddenly at the start of the hols. The two of them then took turns for the next hour to try and break through my defences. They only stopped when Snape sprained his wrist, landing on the rug," Harry shook his head, "They sent me back to Gryffindor after."

Ron was angry, Harry could tell from the stiff set of his lips and the tension running through the frame pressed against him. Hermione looked shocked too, but rallied to defend the teachers, as always.

"They had to be sure that the shields would hold, Harry."

"I know," Harry nodded, his voice neutral, "But from my end of the bargain, it's not much fun to fend off two very powerful Wizards who are intent on getting inside your head for an hour."

There was an uneasy silence, which Ron eventually broke. Harry knew he could count on Ron to chance from one controversial subject to the next.

"During the hols you said there was something you needed to tell the both of us," the redhead glanced at Harry uncertainly, and Harry smiled to show he wasn't upset. He'd made a promise and intended to keep it.

"It's about the prophecy. It was destroyed at the Ministry, but Dumbledore was there when it was first delivered. He told me about it after he got back to his office that night," Harry took a deep breath and launched straight into the hated words, speaking them tonelessly. Hermione looked sick at the end, and Ron had gone from angry tension to quivering shock.

"That's… awful," Hermione breathed, "Harry, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Harry confessed, "That's why I need the Arithmancy. At the Ministry I tried to hold the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. It makes me sick to even think about it now… there's no way I'm going to use the Unforgivable Curses against him. I…"

"He's so far in the dark, that the best way is to destroy him with light," Ron finished when Harry faltered and he looked at his friend with gratitude and love. Ron yanked him into a hug and held him tight.

"I'm no Arithmancer, Harry, but I can fetch books as well as the next man. You can count on me to help you look. We'll help you find a way to get rid of V-V Voldy…"

"Voldy? I like it," Harry chuckled, "Voldy and the Death Eaters. Sounds like a band."

Ron sniggered and Harry laughed a little, leaning into the offered comfort.

"Stop it! This is serious!" Hermione snapped, but there was a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.

On the first day of classes Professor Dumbledore stood to announce that the Educational Decrees passed by Professor Umbridge had mostly been overturned, and Professor McGonagal had pulled Harry aside very gravely to explain that his Quidditch ban was still in force.

"The Minister feels that the punishment was severe, but your behaviour last year didn't indicate remorse. He says that if you can demonstrate good behaviour this year he'll lift the ban in time for your seventh," McGonagal's lips were very straight and angry and Harry sighed in resignation. There was no point in shouting or complaining to her, he was sure his Head of House had done everything she could to get the ban lifted.

"Who's captain of the team?" Harry asked in a low voice. McGonagal patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Ron Weasley will take that post," she told him, a touch of pity in her voice, "I'm sorry Potter."

"Can I have my broom back? If I can't fly it, then maybe Ginny Weasley could," he looked hopefully at his teacher, "Does the ban prevent me from flying?"

"No," McGonagal said slowly, "Though it would be best if you didn't. The Minister might take that as proof …"

"But there's no reason not to give me the Firebolt," Harry pressed, "Ginny could fly it in whatever position she takes on the team."

"Very well," his teacher nodded, "Come collect it after classes today. Bring Mr Weasley and I'll tell him the good news."

Harry nodded and hurried to catch up with his friends. They had Herbology together first, then Charms. Both of those lessons were doubles, though Charms was broken up by lunch. Double Transfiguration followed, and then Harry had a single Arithmancy, Ron had Divination and Hermione had Ancient Runes. He made plans to meet Ron to collect the Firebolt in the afternoon, and hoped that the upcoming discussion wouldn't end their friendship.

An owl arrived at lunchtime for Harry with an update on the prototype brooms. Harry had been given a folder to keep his company papers in, with his name on the front. He'd doodled a snitch and a broom under his name as well, and the folder resided in his school bag. Harry shoved the documents into the folder unread, making a mental note to go over them in bed tonight. With the curtains drawn it was the most privacy he'd get, though Ron was sure to want to know what was in store for them. Harry would let him read it over too, he trusted his friend not to blab, and Ron often picked up things that Harry missed.

His friends were giving him some odd looks during class, and Harry realised that he was still too quiet for normal. The news about the Quidditch ban had been a real blow, because he loved flying so much and was excited about flying against the prototype brooms. He was also not looking forward to telling Ron that he wasn't flying this year and planned to give Ginny the Firebolt for practices and matches.

Ron burst into the boys dorm that night, wildly excited and it didn't take a crystal ball to see that McGonagal had told him about his new position of team captain. Sean and Dean both congratulated the excited red head, while Harry listened from behind his closed curtains. Things quietened down after a while and Harry went back to his Arithmancy homework, rather relieved that he'd laid so much of the groundwork in the summer while recovering.

"How do you knock on curtains?" Ron's voice asked after a while and Harry jumped. He capped his inkbottle and waved the curtains open, not registering that his wand was lying under the pillows he was leaning against. Ron was looking a bit apprehensive, and Harry waved him inside, reaching over to close the curtains again and give them some privacy.

"McGonagal told me about the ban," Ron was not one to beat around the bush, for which Harry was relieved. In fact it was one of the things Harry loved about the other man. Ron had also changed into his faded pyjamas and was wearing a Weasley jumper over them. With his hair ruffled and slightly sleepy face he'd never looked sexier to Harry.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "I've got to be a good boy."

"Not likely," Ron snorted, "If you're not out looking for trouble it comes to find you."

"Thanks," Harry grinned a little and shifted on the pillows so he was sitting Indian style like Ron, "Er, Ron, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"What?" Ron raised his eyebrows curiously, and Harry straightened his shoulders. He'd look Ron in the eye and just tell the truth, how hard could it be?

"IthinkthatGinnyshouldridetheFireboltbecauseshecangiveitthebestworkoutbecauseasakeeperyoudon'tneedafastbroom, ok?"

Ron stared at him blankly and then burst into laughter, flopping back on the bed and clutching his ribs while Harry flushed and scowled. Every few minutes Ron would lift his head to peer at the green-eyed teen and go off into another round of hilarity. It took him almost ten minutes to calm down, by which time Harry was annoyed, but mostly at himself.

"Try again," Ron sniggered and wiped his face, "That didn't make any sense at all."

"I think that Ginny should ride the Firebolt because she can give it the best work out because as a keeper you don't need a fast broom," Harry repeated at a slightly slower pace. Ron sat up properly, thinking it over. Harry picked at the knee of his pyjamas nervously, waiting for the anger or hurt that he was sure Ron would feel.

"Makes sense," Ron nodded, "I don't need a racing broom, and as a Chaser or Seeker, Ginny does. That way the prototypes will still be tested against the competition too."

"You're not mad?" Harry asked in relief and Ron's face changed, gentling a little. He shifted so that he was sitting beside Harry, their shoulders and thighs touching. The warmth was welcome to Harry, and he did his best not to lean into it.

"Harry, I know how much that broom and the team mean to you. I'm not mad," Ron promised quietly. Harry sighed in relief and nodded, unable to meet his friends gaze. He didn't deserve Ron, especially after last year, moments like this just served to reinforce that idea.

"Hey, what did the company send you?" Ron changed the subject and Harry seized upon it gratefully, passing the Cleansweep folder to Ron. The redhead opened it eagerly and pulled out the latest letter, settling in comfortably beside Harry to go over the details.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione didn't even look up from her homework as Harry cautiously shifted a stack of books and then placed them back precisely where they'd been. Ron looked up from his potions essay and rolled his eyes at his friend before getting back to work.

"Looking for my folder. You know, the one with the brooms and snitches on the front?" Harry replied, glancing at her to see if she knew where it was. He hadn't told her about his ownership of the company, preferring not to risk spreading the news about. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had accepted the position of tester for the new series of brooms and Harry's mail was getting more and more complicated.

"Have you even finished your homework?" Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry nodded, resuming his search on the cluttered table top quietly. They were in the library and he really didn't want to be kicked out before he found his folder.

"Yep, all done," he confirmed, sifting carefully through Ron's worn out bag. On the nights that Ron chose to sleep in his own bed, Harry stayed up and completed his homework, allowing him to concentrate on breaking the Arithmancy of Avada Kedavra. The fourth year Arithmancy course showed students how to make simple spells of their own, and as Harry hadn't relaxed his efforts at self-tutoring in the subject, he was well ahead of his class, to the delight of his Professor. Ron was only sleeping with Harry three nights a week, so he had a lot of study time up his sleeve, catching a quick nap around dawn to appear fresh and rested.

"What about…" Hermione put her quill down, frowning at him curiously.

"I'm waiting for a book," Harry interrupted her, not wanting the private study to be mentioned out loud. A sixth section had appeared in his leather bound book, and Harry was slowly, painstakingly working his way through the hated curse.

"Well can't you find something else to do?" she asked in exasperation, and Harry sighed, pausing in his search to look at her steadily.

"I would if I could find my folder," he replied patiently, then started to slide off the seat to look under the desk, "Maybe it's on the floor."

It wasn't, and because he was in a restless mood, Harry tickled Hermione's ankles while he was down there and pulled Ron's socks down too. He emerged from under the table a few seats away from his friends, out of reach of their retaliation, rumpled and concerned. He didn't want to have to write to the Board and request copies of the papers they'd sent him, which would be an admission that he was too immature to handle the job.

"Maybe you left it upstairs, mate," Ron scowled, his expression at odds with his concerned tone as he pulled his socks back up one at a time. Harry shook his head stubbornly, remembering clearly that he'd put the latest letter in there when it arrived this morning. He ruffled a hand through his hair and looked around for inspiration. What he saw made his mouth go dry.

Draco Malfoy and his two goons were standing in the stacks not so far away attempting to prise the folder open. They weren't having any luck, and Draco said something impatient under his breath, pulling his wand.

"Malfoy! Give that back!" Harry snapped, not caring if he called attention to himself. The three Slytherins probably thought they'd found Griffindor's Quidditch strategies or something. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Madam Pince bustle towards them, a dark shadow following in her wake. He didn't have time to bemoan the fate that led Snape into his path right then, he was more concerned with getting his folder back in one piece.

Malfoy sneered at him and pointed his wand at the folder. Harry clearly heard him pronounce an unlocking charm, but he wasn't ready for what happened next. There was a loud whistle that had everyone nearby cringing with their hands over their ears, and bright blue dye exploded out of the folder, drenching everything in a one-metre radius.

"My books!" Madam Pince shrilled, and Harry moaned in despair. The three Slytherins were covered and dripping with the stuff, as was the bookcase behind them.

"In trouble again, Potter? What did you do this time?" Snape snapped, drawing his wand and prodding at the dripping Goyle with it.

"It's all his fault, Professor!" Malfoy piped up on cue, having to whine loudly to be heard over the scores of laughing students. Ron was red faced and leaning heavily on the table, and even Hermione was giggling wildly. Madam Pince pulled her wand to vanish the mess and was dismayed when it stayed put.

"The folder clearly has my name on it Professor, and it was locked! They had no right to try and break into my things!" Harry protested hotly, and pulled his own wand, "Evanesco!"

There was a loud hum, and the very air seemed to vibrate as Harry pointed his wand at the mess. The blue stuff disappeared immediately, though Malfoy's once blonde hair had a powder blue tinge to it. Madam Pince checked the nearest books and snatched Harry's folder from Crabbe's nerveless hands.

"Twenty points for a potentially harmful prank, Potter…" Snape drew himself up, clearly working himself up to some truly vile punishment.

"And ten points from each of the boys who attempted to open a folder clearly marked with someone else's name and locked to boot," Madame Pince interrupted sharply, fixing Snape with a glare that had Harry cringing in sympathy, "They had no right to open the folder without Mr Potter's permission, and I very much doubt the boy left it out for them to find."

"Very well," Snape muttered through stiff lips, and stalked away, leaving the Slytherins to face Madam Pince's wrath. She kicked them out of the library, and then handed Harry the folder.

"I'm sorry about the books," Harry bit his lip, "I didn't know the folder would react like that."

"Just see to it that it doesn't happen again," Madam Pince swept off, and Harry returned to Ron's table. Hermione was staring at him, and Harry raised his eyebrows at her curiously. Ron patted his knee under the table in a comforting if absent-minded fashion, which cheered Harry up enough to open his folder. Hermione leaned over however, and tapped his wrist to get his attention.

"Harry, that spell was really strong," she muttered and he sighed, putting his wand on the table unhappily.

"I know," he admitted, "I… all year I've been having problems with casting. Sometimes I have to work really hard just to get a simple spell to work, and other times… it's like a huge surge of magic."

"That's not good," Ron looked worried and Harry sighed, running his fingers over the snitches he'd doodled on the front of his folder.

"I took my wand to Professor Flitwick and he can't find anything wrong with it," Harry rubbed a smudge off the handle of his wand and stuck it back in his robes, "I'm scared that I'll lose control of it and hurt someone."

"You'll just have to be really careful, Harry," was the only advice that Hermione could offer and Harry bit back a retort. He already knew that.

Malfoy was _really_ pissed off the next day when Ron opened Harry's folder without second thought to fish out the potions essays that had got swept into it last night in their rush to pack up. Harry thought that the blue tinge in the other teens hair suited him, though he wasn't stupid enough to say so where Malfoy could hear him.


	4. Chunk 4

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

It took Harry until the end of term to restore harmony between himself and his wand. It had been a hard fought victory, and Ron had often been on the receiving end of his mistakes, as the redhead wouldn't allow anyone else to partner Harry in duels or trials. That the redhead knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn't risk an innocent was both a comfort and curse. A comfort because no one would be taken off guard by the unpredictable surges of magic, and a curse because Ron sometimes couldn't duck quickly enough. He sprained his wrist once and was covered in bruises several times, not to mention an unfortunate incident with boils that required the school Matron's undivided attention to an area that Ron would have preferred not to put on display.

Things slowly improved, as Harry began to be able to feel the surge as it started and either control it safely when he was casting, or abort the casting and point the business end of his wand into a neutral corner. Eventually he had complete control once more, and was even able to use the surges to his benefit, especially in duels.

Quidditch practice resumed of course, and Harry stayed away from the stadiums. He didn't want to be reminded of his ban, though Malfoy worked out that he was still under restriction and did his best to make Harry's life a living misery until Professor Sprout caught the prefect at it and assigned so many detentions the blonde didn't have time to do anything else. Ron had already told Harry that he'd understand if Harry didn't come to the matches, but Harry wasn't such a bad friend that he'd fail to support his friends when they played. He'd go to the matches and cheer loudly for his team if it killed him.

Mrs Weasley had sent a note saying that Ron and Ginny were to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas. Reading between the lines, Harry and Ron guessed that there was something going on for the Order at Christmas, and Ron had written a deliberately cheerful letter telling his parents that they didn't mind staying and that they looked forward to seeing them in the summer. Ginny had gone about with a worried look on her face that Harry wished he could relieve. Hermione had evidently deduced the problem, because Harry saw her huddled in a corner of the common room one night with Ginny, who appeared a lot more cheerful the next day at breakfast as a result.

Hermione was going home for Christmas, along with everyone else in Gryffindor with the exception of the Weasley's and Harry. Ron had made some crack about it being their house and that they would be able to wander around in their pyjamas all holiday if they wanted to. Harry had laughed. Ron continued to sleep with Harry every other night or so, leaving the green eyed Wizard confused about what was going on. He enjoyed Ron's company, though he was careful to conceal any physical reaction he had to the red head's closeness and warmth. Ron smelt fantastic and felt solid to Harry, like something that he could cling to. There was no sign that Ron wanted more than a living teddy bear, though, and Harry was resigned to letting the redhead have whatever he wanted. It was more than Harry had ever dreamed he'd have, and he wasn't about to ruin their friendship by pushing Ron for more, or for an explanation. It wasn't normal for friends to crawl into each other's beds as far as Harry could tell, but he'd never considered himself or his life normal and was used to making the best of whatever he had.

He woke on the morning that the holiday train left with a general sense of feeling unwell, and lunchtime found him slumped in an armchair with a raging thirst and thumping headache. Kind hands offered him water, which he drank of deeply, and then strong arms were helping him up with a gentle voice urged him to walk. Ron's scent washed over him, and to please his friend, Harry walked along obligingly, not complaining about the pain in his head that had spread to his arms and legs. He was unreasonably hot and cold at the same time and the world was rapidly slipping away from him, no matter how hard he clung to Ron's scent and support.

When he emerged from the long dark tunnel he'd fallen into, Harry found himself lying between crisp sheets in the hospital wing, with Ron's head next to his right hand. The redhead was snuffling in his sleep a little, and Harry amused himself by idly teasing the slightly long red locks into arrant spikes that poked wildly in every direction. Ron seemed to enjoy the contact because he hummed in his sleep and pushed his head into Harry's idle fingers, subtly demanding more caresses. Harry grinned and obliged, taking this liberty with his sleeping friend, mostly unconcerned that Ron would hate him because of it.

"Mr Potter? You're awake!" Madam Pomfrey's voice woke Ron, and Harry pulled his fingers back, unable to swallow a grin at the spiked hair.

"How do you feel Harry?" Ron had a crease in one cheek and was flushed from sleep in a manner that made Harry want to hold him close. He couldn't however, and settled for answering the question.

"Much better now that headache's gone," he looked at the school Matron who was waving her wand over him, "Was I sick again? I don't have pneumonia."

"That's because you weren't left to aspirate your own emesis," Pomfrey snapped, her face showing all too clearly what she thought of people who left a sick teenager in such a state. Ron ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably and then raised both hands to pat at it in consternation.

"What?" he spluttered and Harry laughed softly at the expression on his friends face. He ducked against the pillows as Ron accurately deduced what had happened, who had done it and moved to extract his revenge.

"I'm sick!" he protested and Ron snorted, but the hand ruffling through Harry's hair was tender and Harry shot his friend a look of such devotion and love that Ron couldn't miss it. The red head's face changed and Harry pulled away, preferring not to see the hatred or disgust that was sure to follow. Madam Pomfrey stepped in, sending Ron upstairs for a shower and 'some proper sleep'.

"He'll still be here when you get back, and as the delirium has definitely passed you needn't stay any longer," the matron shooed Ron away and Harry frowned.

"He stayed the whole time I was sick?" he asked the bustling woman, sitting up obediently and taking the first of the three potions she was measuring out.

"Your magic wouldn't let anyone else near you," she patted his knee as he spluttered through the first foul taste, "You would only calm for him, and only accepted the medicines he gave you. The rest of us had to learn how to duck."

"Merlin - that tastes awful!" Harry protested and gulped the second one in an effort to mask the first. That proved to be a mistake and he very nearly coughed them both back up. Madam Pomfrey's words were relegated to the background for later contemplation while he dealt with his rebellious stomach and the taste of the third potion.

He was out of the hospital wing in time for Christmas. Ron had made no reference to the look Harry had given him, though the redhead seemed nervous about something. They'd opened their presents in the common room together and Harry had worn the Weasley jumper to Christmas dinner. The Great Hall was once more empty, and they'd dined with the staff at a round table before retreating to their common rooms. Ginny was once again depressed about something, and as Harry knew that he couldn't front Ron on their mutual problem he decided he'd be better off trying to help Ginny with hers. She was sitting on the hearth, the fire lighting her face in flickering shades of orange, and Harry plonked himself on the couch behind her.

"What's wrong Ginny?" he'd never learnt to be subtle when it came to asking girls about their problems - witness that mess with Cho Chang in his fourth year. Ginny sighed and looked up at him affectionately. She knew he was hopeless with girls - Hermione had in all likelihood bent her ear over his and Ron's inadequacies more than once.

"I broke up with Sean," Ginny sighed, looking back into the flames, and Harry frowned, trying to recall who the hell Sean was.

"In Ravenclaw - your year?" Harry asked and Ginny nodded moodily. Harry bit down on a sigh and wished that he'd never started this discussion. He didn't know what girls wanted in a boyfriend, and he certainly wasn't interested in a girlfriend.

"I'm sorry," the phrase was inadequate, but he couldn't just leave things hanging. Ginny laughed - much to Harry's relief - and turned so she was half facing him.

"It's just that… well, I've had three boyfriends now and they all seem to dump me after a few months. I just can't figure it out," Ginny sighed and Harry shifted. She was a little like her mother in that she knew what she wanted and went for it. That would be disconcerting to a bunch of teenage boys who were looking to fool around and figure out the whole dating thing for themselves. That didn't mean Ginny was overbearing or dominating, but she certainly wasn't a push over either. She needed someone that could match her strength for strength, rather like her father matched her mother.

"Maybe I'm not pretty enough to keep," the mumble was only half audible, but Harry couldn't let such a blatantly idiotic idea pass.

"Bollocks," he said strongly, "You're plenty pretty, Ginny, there's nothing wrong with your looks!"

"But there is something wrong with me," she pounced and Harry groaned, dragging a hand over his face and then glaring at her.

"If you're going to put words in my mouth I may as well leave," he told her, and she sighed, patting his ankle in apology, "There's nothing wrong with you at all, Ginny. Maybe the reason you haven't stayed with the same guy is because they're not what you're looking for. You deserve someone special."

"Harry," Ginny breathed, her face lighting up, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!"

"Well it's true," he shifted in embarrassment, wondering why the hell he hadn't kept his nose out of it, "You do."

"Thanks," Ginny said simply and returned her gaze to the fire. She sighed after a moment and then looked back up at him.

"Sean said that I was a lousy kisser," she confessed, and Harry sat bolt upright, making a mental note to seek this idiot out at some point and explain the facts of life regarding Miss Ginny Weasley. At wand point, preferably, after he'd stuck the idiot to a ceiling.

"… so will you?" Ginny was saying and Harry frowned. He hadn't been listening, too immersed in his visions of vengeance.

"What?" he asked and she hit his shins, "Ow! That hurt!"

"Pay attention!" she waved it aside, "I said, that I could kiss you and you could tell me if Sean was right or not!"

"I can't kiss you!" Harry yelped and Ginny got up on her knees, putting her hands either side of his legs to pin him in place.

"Why not?" Ginny asked, and Harry had to bite down on the words 'because I'm in love with your brother'.

"Because… you're like a little sister to me, and that would be too weird!" he sputtered and her face went all soft on him.

"Oh Harry, that's so sweet," she cooed, and Harry squirmed.

"Look, why don't you kiss Ron?" he asked, "It would be the same thing!"

"Yuk!" Ginny protested, "It would not! I guess… I guess you didn't mean it then…"

The pain in her voice made him wince and he bit his lip. She wasn't going to take a rejection any time soon, but this was the worst idea he'd heard in a long time. Merlin help him if Ron caught him kissing his sister on the common room couch.

"Look, one kiss, ok," Harry said nervously, "Just…"

The rest was cut off as Ginny launched herself at him, knocking him flat onto the sofa and kissing him enthusiastically. Her lips were warm and moist and moved against his nicely, but the kiss itself wasn't doing anything for him because she was the wrong Weasley. She drew back for air and Harry put his hands on her shoulders to stop her leaning in again.

"Erm," he mumbled, but got no further because someone grabbed Ginny with a yell and Harry looked up into the furious, hate filled eyes of Ron Weasley.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" Ron roared as Harry struggled up off the couch. Ginny wriggled free, but before either one of them could explain Ron had hauled off and punched Harry on the jaw, knocking him back down before storming up to the dorm and locking himself in.

"Ron!" Ginny shrieked and took a few steps after her brother, leaving Harry a clear path to the portrait hole. He bolted, his whole body in revolt. Ron had seen them, Ron had hit him, Ron hated him! The litany played over and over in his head as his vision blurred with unshed tears. He ran along the corridor, not paying attention to his path, looking for somewhere to hide, somewhere to be safe and alone to grieve. A familiar door appeared in front of him and Harry yanked it open gratefully, ducking automatically and collapsing onto the too small cot. His shoes went to their accustomed spot, out of the way and yet in reach, his glasses went to the shelf, resting beside the half full tin of beeswax. He rolled onto his side, away from the small amount of light that filtered in from the grill and curled up tight, his grief and pain bubbling out of him in one long, misery riddled howl.

Harry stirred after a while and sat up. He pulled his shoes on and glasses, and then crept out of the Dursley's cupboard under the stairs, emerging into Hogwarts. There was a pale smudge of pink in the window at the end of the corridor and Harry estimated that it was dawn. He rubbed his eyes and trudged back to the common room. He wasn't going to let this go with Ron - he'd rather fight for the remains of their friendship than just let it slip away.

The portrait swung open and Harry climbed into the common room. Ron had turned an armchair around and positioned it so that he was sitting squarely in front of the entrance, clearly waiting for Harry's return. The red head was pale and tired looking, but his eyes were clear and bright, shining with worry and fear. Harry stopped just inside the passage and looked back at the one person who he trusted implicitly in this and any other world, despite the punch to the jaw he'd received twelve hours ago.

"Ginny explained what happened," Ron blurted, his voice sad. There were a few hex marks on his neck and one arm, so it looked like Ginny's explanation had been very… vigorous. She'd definitely inherited the family temper.

"You hit me," Harry said flatly, and Ron nodded glumly.

"I was jealous," the reply didn't make much sense and Harry ignored it for a moment. Why would he be jealous of Harry for kissing his sister?

"You won't hit me again," it wasn't a question.

"Never again," it was a vow, "I'm sorry."

"Why did you?" the question slipped out without thought and Ron rolled his eyes, the first sign of his usual gentle sarcasm that Harry had seen in a while - since he'd been sick actually.

"Because I was jealous," he repeated. Harry frowned. That still didn't make sense to him, "You were kissing the wrong Weasley, Harry. I don't want you to kiss my sister, I want you to kiss me."

"Why?" Harry shook his head. His best friend wanted to kiss him - and as much as Harry wanted to he needed to know why. If this was just some experiment or something he didn't want any part of it.

"How thick are you?" Ron scoffed, "I love you, you berk. Do you see me cuddling up with Hermione, or Neville? Do you see me making sure they eat enough and crawling into their beds?"

"You'd better not have," Harry's own jealousy was stirred and Ron laughed. He got up and put out a cautious hand, which Harry took.

"You love me?" Harry couldn't help asking for confirmation and Ron nodded, his face serious.

"I adore you," the phrase was incongruous but warmed Harry clear through. He tugged on the hand he held and Ron stepped in to lean against him, arms around his waist, foreheads pressed together. Something deep inside Harry let go and he sighed softly in relief, wrapping his arms around Ron and closing his eyes.

"I love you," there was no going back now that he'd uttered those three words, and Ron chuckled warmly. The hands on Harry's back flexed idly and Ron nuzzled his cheek before burying his face in Harry's messy hair and moving closer. They stood there for a long time, until Ginny came down the stairs from the girl's dorms and spotted them.

"Are you alright Harry?" she blurted and Harry let go of Ron reluctantly to look at her. He nodded and gave her a little smile. Ron's warmth was clinging to his skin and there was a great sense of peace settling in his heart.

"Fine," he confirmed and Ron slipped an arm around his waist. Harry leaned into the redhead's side, covering the hand on his hip with his own. Ginny flushed at that, and sighed. There was no room for doubt in that gesture. Ron and Harry were together at last, and not even she would come between them.

"I'm sorry about last night," she offered and Harry grinned.

"Actually, since it worked out so well, I should thank you," he told her, "And for the record, Ginny, you kiss very nicely. You were just the wrong Weasley."

Ginny blushed and Ron made a startled wordless protest, his fingers gripping Harry's hip tightly for a moment. Harry turned wide innocent eyes on his best friend and Ron groaned covering his eyes with one hand for falling for it. Ginny laughed, bounced over and kissed Harry's cheek.

"Thank you," she blushed and slipped out of the portrait hole on her way to breakfast.

"Tired?" Ron asked Harry, who nodded. They climbed the stairs to the dorm, and stripped, pulling on pyjamas and crawling into Ron's bed. Ron pulled him close and Harry settled with a sigh.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered and Harry nodded, snuggling close as he drifted into sleep. They woke at noon, and Ron spoke as if continuing a conversation they'd started earlier.

"I've loved you a long time, but I only figured it out when Mum and Dad took us for that holiday in summer. You were so poorly when they brought you to the Burrow that I thought I'd just bide my time to tell you. And in the meantime, I could … well, touch you and see if you wanted me to stop. You didn't but I never found the right time to tell you that I loved you, and then at school you still wanted me to hug you, and you even reached out a few times. Then you gave me that look in the hospital wing when you woke up, and I was trying all Christmas to figure out how to tell you, but then you kissed Ginny."

Harry silenced the ramble with a finger over Ron's lips, which the red head nipped, kissed, licked and then sucked into his mouth. Harry felt a jolt below the waist as his breath whooshed out in one lust driven gasp. Ron let him pull his finger free, and blushed a little.

"One of the brains that I summoned to me at the Ministry left behind a few memories of life experiences that were only interesting if I imagined doing them to you," he explained and Harry levered himself up.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, and Ron nodded, his face serious. Harry leaned down and brushed their lips together. Their skin rubbed back and forth, slowly becoming more and amore sensitive, until Ron opened his lips with a sigh and Harry dipped his tongue in for a taste. Ron shifted, pulling Harry to lie on top of him and deepening the kiss. Harry was in heaven, surrounded by Ron's scent and warmth, Ron's strong arms around him, Ron's thighs outside his, Ron's taste in his mouth. The kisses stole all air in the room, all sound and light, taking over their senses until there was nothing else.

"I adore you," Harry's whisper hung in the air.

"Harry," Hermione put her essay in her bag, "We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous," Ron joked from where he sat, flipping through the pages of Harry's blue leather book. The green eyes teen had asked Ron to look it over and point out any flaws he could find. Ron was learning Arithmancy through Harry and Hermione's discussions, though the red heads understanding was more instinctual than intellectual. He had a gift for making comments that would spark off ideas that led to interesting conclusions. Harry's Arithmancy studies were progressing well, and Ron had let the dark haired teen know how proud he was of his 'boyfriend' in some very creative and pleasurable ways.

"What's up?" Harry asked, looking up from his Potions homework gratefully. Snape was as irascible as ever, finding fault with the smallest things.

"Not here," Hermione gestured to the library and its tables full of working students, "Come on."

She stood up and Ron started packing his things away quickly, urging Harry to do the same. Harry sighed and did as he was told, following the bushy haired girl out of the library with Ron in the rear. She led the way to a particular corridor and walked up and down it, her brow furrowed in concentration. A door appeared and Hermione led the way into a cosy little study.

There was a huge couch and two armchairs, grouped in front of a fireplace and a low coffee table. Ron threw himself into an armchair and Hermione took the other, leaving Harry the large couch. They helped themselves to the tea and scones on the table, munching through the generous plate and talking about the Charms homework. Whatever Hermione had wanted to say evidently took some working towards, because she wasn't waiting impatiently for the boys to finish their chatter.

With the tea and scones gone, Ron curled up in the armchair and rubbed an ear.

"Well, what did you want to say?" he prompted the girl opposite him in his usual blunt fashion. Hermione sighed and sat up straight.

"Just… well, I've been watching you Harry," she blushed, and so did Harry, uncertain of where this was heading, "And… well…"

"Spit it out Hermione," Ron growled, and Harry relished the jealous light in his eyes.

"Your magic seems to have been getting stronger and stronger and I've noticed that you do a lot of wandless magic each day mainly little things like summoning or repair or levitation charms and I was wondering why that was," Hermione spat it out in a breathless rush and Harry leaned back to process the sentence. When he'd understood what she'd said his eyes widened and he glanced at Ron for corroboration. Ron grinned and shrugged, nodding an affirmative.

"I didn't know," Harry said weakly, "Ron…"

"It's ok, Harry, there's nothing wrong with wandless magic," Ron chuckled, "It just means that you're a lot more powerful than we thought. When you were sick at Christmas, anything loose in the hospital wing went flying in your delirium. Because you're not off your head now, the magic is more controlled."

"You knew?" Hermione gasped and Ron waved a hand. Harry had the feeling that there were other things that Ron had noticed but was not saying in front of Hermione.

"Only because I was there," he assured her, and she looked at Harry inquiringly. He shrugged a little.

"My wand gave me a bit of trouble at the start of term again, but I got control of it more quickly this time. I thought it might be because I'd been sick at Christmas, that there was something wrong with me," he looked at the teacup in his hand and Ron chuckled.

"There's nothing, wrong, Harry, you're just… well growing I guess. There was a great uncle on mum's side that could do wandless magic. He had a career as a Healer, because he had a much finer control of his magic than normal," Ron revealed, "Most families have at least one Wizard or Witch that is capable of wandless magic."

"Oh," Hermione sighed in relief, "I thought that maybe it was a bad sign."

"Dumbledore does it," Ron reminded her, and Hermione nodded. Harry wondered why it was that he never seemed to do things the normal way. An unconscious ability had one of his best friends thinking that he was starting to turn bad, and the last thing Harry needed was Hermione's enmity.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure that Flitwick has noticed and is keeping an eye on you. I've been watching you too," Ron owned up, and Harry caught a suggestion of a leer on his lover's face. That kind of watching was something that he could enjoy and did on a regular basis. He wondered if he could get Ron to stay back with him later. After all this was a very wide couch.


	5. Chunk 5

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

"Mails in!" Dean waved his hand at the owls that fluttered into the Great Hall, and Harry secured a bit of bacon for Hedwig. Surely enough, moments later she was on his shoulder, hooting softly and nudging his cheek. The Gryffindors had gotten used to her obvious concern for her master, and no longer commented on it. Harry smiled and ruffled her feathers before offering her the bacon and returning to his own breakfast. Hedwig would sit on his shoulder until he had to leave for class, just like she did every morning.

The usual brown owl from the Cleansweeep mailroom arrived with the results of the brooms testing before during and after the last match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Slytherin had lost, much to Harry's satisfaction and Ron's unconcealed delight. The brooms were going to be offered to some of the League teams next month, and Ron was campaigning hard for the Cannons to be one of them. Professor Dumbledore had muttered something about Puddlemere United as he was passing Harry in the library last week and Harry had to stifle a laugh. Quidditch was truly the great leveller.

A second owl landed and Hedwig hooted at it crossly. She didn't like other owls near him and he was in the habit of sending her out regularly with little messages to Hagrid or Mrs Weasley to prevent her from becoming overly jealous. The fact that this owl was also white probably wasn't helping matters.

"Shhh," Harry told her, taking the roll of parchment from its leg and letting it fly away. He didn't notice the sudden reaction of the Headmaster to an owl of his own, or the way the older man suddenly stood and moved along the staff table to speak to McGonagal. He glanced at the seal on the back, not recognising it and slid a thumb under the paper to break it open.

"Harry!" Dumbledore's voice was pretty urgent, but Harry had already opened the envelope. He tensed but nothing bad seemed to happen, so he pulled the letter out while the Headmaster hurried towards him, his own mail clutched in one hand.

"Sir?" Harry asked, turning to face the man, a subtle challenge in his eyes. If this was another attempt to control his future then the Headmaster was going to have a huge fight on his hands.

"Come with me," the Headmaster wisely decided that the Great Hall was not the place to have this argument and Harry followed obediently, Hedwig still on his shoulder. He read as he walked, counting on the subtle cues from his owl as he followed the Headmaster up the stairs. They walked briskly, and by the time they were in the mans office (freckled figs) he'd read the letter and was rather annoyed.

"I thought we weren't going to do anything about the Dursley's," he looked into the blue eyes that were completely without their usual twinkle. Harry couldn't believe that he was being summoned to court to testify against his own family. The Wizengamot shouldn't have anything to do with this, and he certainly didn't see the point in persecuting the dumb Muggles.

"As did I," Dumbledore sighed, "However, I was over ruled. The Healers at St Mungo's were outraged at your condition this summer and filed several complaints. Professor Lupin backed them up."

"Oh," Harry hadn't counted on his Healers sticking up for him. Lupin was no surprise, it was all Harry could do to restrain the furious werewolf when it came to the illness he'd suffered that summer. Lupin had not been happy to hear that Harry had been sick before Christmas either, and had come up for a flying visit on New Years day to reassure himself that the teen was recovered. Harry had been able to reassure him that he was in tiptop shape - Ron could vouch for that!

"There is some sort of hearing this Friday afternoon," Harry frowned at the letter, "And I'm supposed to be there."

"I will escort you and Mr Weasley to the hearing," Dumbledore confirmed, "I have his summons to the hearing with my own. As the injured party yours came separately."

"Do we have a choice in the matter?" Harry asked hopefully and the Headmaster shook his head. Harry sighed and accepted the inevitable with as good as grace as possible. There was no way the Dursley's were going to comply with any orders given them by the Wizengamot, which to Harry's mind made this an exercise in futility. However it was unlikely that his opinion would be solicited in this matter, and he went to classes with a sense of foreboding.

Molly and Arthur Weasley met them in the foyer, and Harry accepted his share of the hugs enthusiastically. His sense of foreboding had only grown as the weekend approached, and now that the hearing was upon him it was all he could do not to jump out of his skin with nerves. Ron seemed to have noticed that because he was being especially quiet and helpful at the moment. If he still wanted anything to do with Harry after the hearing, the green-eyed teen was going to find a way to do something special for his boyfriend.

"We're in court room six," Arthur Weasley noted, "I double checked just a minute ago."

Harry grinned at this reference to his hearing last year, and caught the twinkle in Arthur's eye. His grin disappeared when he realised that members of the public and the Press were going to be there, and he put his head down to avoid noticing all the stares he was getting. Arthur and Molly moved to bracket him protectively and an Auror let them in with a curious look. It wasn't one Harry knew, and he wondered if the slender woman was a member of the Order.

They were shown to seats in the front row, which meant that Harry didn't have to look at the crowd looking at him. Ron sat near the wall, with Harry beside him, then Molly, Arthur and the Headmaster. The twins and Lupin were already there, and sat behind Harry with three Healers from St Mungo's. This provided a huge buffer between Harry and the spectators as long as he didn't turn around to look at them. He was surprised when Professor McGonagal and Hagrid arrived and took seats behind him as well. The half giant was wearing his hideous court coat and he smiled at Harry encouragingly.

The Wizengamot filed in, and the Dursley's and their very pretty Witch solicitor followed. Uncle Vernon was red-faced already, and Aunt Petunia had primmed up her lips so much it looked as if she had no mouth. Dudley was sort of swaggering along; at least as best he could with his hands spread over his backside. He sneered at Harry before he sat down with his parents on the bench that had been set aside for them on the other side of the room. Harry watched his cousin squirm, trying to get comfortable until Vernon hissed something that made him stop and switch to sulking.

The session was called to order, and the charges of negligence and abuse read out. The spectators immediately fell to whispering among themselves and Harry fixed his gaze on the floor in front of him. This was going to be highly embarrassing, and he knew that he'd have to be careful if he wanted to avoid losing his temper and making things worse.

"We call Harry Potter," Madam Bones was presiding and Harry got up with a sigh, smiling at Ron's whispered encouragements and walking to sit on the chair that was placed for the witness. Vernon Dursley leapt to his feet, even redder than before.

"The boy is a known liar, you can't trust him!" he shouted, "I won't have it!"

His solicitor stood up as well and pushed him into a seat, before trying to control the damage. The Wizengamot was not used to being shouted at by red-faced Muggles.

"There is some doubt as to the veracity of the boys testimony," she began, but was interrupted by Madam Bones.

"We haven't heard his testimony yet."

"Never the less, the boy is known to actively dislike his relatives," the curly haired Witch continued smoothly, "It would not be unfair to see some… precautions taken."

"You lot are magic! Give him a truth serum or something!" Dudley burst out, his piggy little eyes glaring at Harry. Trust his fat cousin to come up with the one way to rob Harry of all dignity yet ruin his families chances of getting out of this one in the same blow.

"Very well, we can administer Veritaserum to the boy," Madam Bones nodded, and a Wizard pulled out a vial of the liquid. The Dursley's approved the decision at the top of their lungs, even as Remus, the Weasley's and Dumbledore protested it. The Dursley's solicitor was on Harry's side, which wasn't surprising when you realised that whatever Harry said against the Dursley's in response to direct questions would be the absolute truth, therefore any question asked would condemn her clients immediately.

"Order!" Madam Bones let off a huge bang and whistle with her wand and glared at them all. When she was satisfied that they were going to behave, she put her wand down and cleared her throat, "Now. There will be several precautions to prevent Mr Potter from coming to any harm whilst he is dosed with Veritaserum. Everyone will surrender their wands to the Auror, until the potion has worn off. Everyone with the exception of myself, Mr Potter and Solicitor Greengrass will be placed under the Silencing spell with NO EXCEPTIONS until the potion has worn off. Those members of the Wizengamot that wish to ask a question will pass me a written note. If at any time I feel that Mr Potter is in any discomfort the antidote will be administered and the questions ended. Anyone who does not wish to comply with these restrictions had better leave now."

No one left, and an Auror produced a box to collect wands. After the first reporter tried to claim they didn't have one and was summarily ejected, the rest of the press handed their wands over meekly.

"I won't give up my wand," Harry said clearly, making no move to pull it out of his school robes. The spectators murmured to each other again, and several members of the Wizengamot glared at him. Remus and Arthur were nodding in approval though, as was Professor McGonagal. Ron gave him a lopsided grin and shrugged when Harry glanced at him for reassurance.

"Very well, Mr Potter, I don't expect you to," Madam Bones agreed, "Better that you have some way to defend yourself."

Harry sagged in relief and watched as the last of the wands were gathered. Madam Bones cast a huge silencing charm on the room, then reversed it on Harry and the Dursley's solicitor. Harry wondered who had thought to hire her for the Muggles, and made a mental note to thank them when he did. As much as he disliked them, it wouldn't have been fair to leave them to fend for themselves in the Wizard courts.

The potion was verified and then administered, and Madam Bones assigned a Healer to stand beside Harry. The woman would be able to signal if she felt that Harry was having troubles, and he sent her a dreamy smile in thanks. The potion made him feel very detached from the courtroom, and he swayed a little on the chair. He barely noticed the first few questions.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Hogwarts."

"Who is your favourite teacher?"

"Remus Lupin, Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harry sent a smile at the last Marauder, and Remus smiled back warmly.

"Describe for me your bedroom at the Dursley's house."

"The last one I slept in was a small room full of Dudley's broken toys and the books he doesn't want that I'm not allowed to read. It has a bed and dresser, as well as a desk and stool and an old cupboard," Harry recited emotionlessly. The Weasley's stirred a little as he went on, wishing desperately that he didn't have to, "There are bars on the window and seven locks on the door to keep me in, and a cat flap for them to put food through."

"What was your first bedroom like?"

Uncle Vernon was purple, glaring and ready to leap up off the bench and hit him, but Harry could no more keep the words inside than he could turn pink and walk on the ceiling.

"It was under the stairs with a camp bed and the cleaning supplies."

"For how many years did you sleep under the stairs?"

"Ten," Harry muttered. The Healer leant over him and wiped his forehead clear of the sweat that was starting to gather on his brow as he resisted answering. He didn't want people to know all this. Madam Bones was reading a slip of paper that had been handed to her, and nodded.

"Describe the last clothes that the Dursley's bought for you."

"I wear Dudley's hand me downs," Harry replied, his gut clenching in anticipation of the next question.

"But he'd be five times your size, at least! Surely they don't fit?"

"They don't," he agreed, his mouth working silently to hold back the answer.

"If they don't fit, how did you keep them on?" the solicitor blurted and then clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Harry gritted his teeth and fought to stay silent, but the words crowded in his throat and he couldn't keep them back.

"I used an old belt of Uncle Vernon for the trousers and tie knots in the underwear until I get to school where I can shrink them to size!" they burst out and he felt tears of frustration and embarrassment gather in his eyes. It wasn't fair! Why was he being punished for the Dursley's actions by being forced to reveal his shameful secrets? He gasped for air and wrapped his arms around his middle, which was starting to ache from being so tense.

"Very well, Harry, just relax. Don't fight it," Madam Bones called up a glass of water and floated it to the Healer, who made Harry drink some.

"Lets move on. Did you have chores to do Harry?"

"Yessssss," he hissed, tensing against the next round of questions.

"What chores did you have to do when you were…ten?"

"Clean the h-house, do the laundry, clean the car, cook breakfast every day, maintain the g-garden," Harry blurted and bit his lips. Madam Bones raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Did your cousin Dudley do any of these chores with you?"

"N n no," Harry shuddered.

"What punishment were you given for failing to complete your chores?"

"N n no f food…" Harry's head was starting to hurt, and his lungs too from struggling to breathe yet let nothing out. The Healers touch was not soothing him at all, and the instruction to relax was one he ignored as a matter of course.

"We need a comparison. What chores did you do when you were three?"

"C-cook b-breakfast, c-cl-clean the h-h-hhouse."

The spectators were very restless, but Harry didn't dare to look at them. He didn't want their pity, and he certainly didn't want to see their disgust.

"Were you beaten by the Dursley's Harry?"

"S-ssssss-sometimessssss," Harry writhed in his chair and the Healer made urgent gestures to Madam Bones, who immediately produced the antidote and dosed him before removing the silencing charm from the Healer. The antidote was taking Harry right outside of himself, and he couldn't resist when he was helped up and placed back on his bench. Molly Weasley and Ron immediately put their arms around him and he rested in the embrace gratefully. Molly petted his head lightly, and Ron pressed close to his side.

By the time he'd come to his senses, the silencing charm had been removed from the spectators, put back on the Dursley's when they failed to stop shouting threats and abuse at him, and the Healers had given their evidence that Harry's body showed clear signs of starvation from an early age, as well as several old breaks and a nasty scar on his liver that had appeared as a result of his natural magic healing that organ when it was badly hurt. Neither of the Weasley's showed any sign of letting go of him, and Ron had managed to retain the glass of water which kept filling itself after Harry drained it. Since the cool liquid was reviving him nicely, Harry didn't mind and drank it dry several times.

The decision was made that no further witnesses would need to be called in the light of Harry's testimony under Veritaserum, and a short recess was called for the Wizengamot to consider their verdict.


	6. Chunk 6

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

Hagrid took Harry from the Weasley's arms and ushered him out after the retreating Wizengamot. The Aurors were ushering and spluttering Vernon and Petunia out a side door, Dudley still in silent shock at the verdict handed down by the court of Wizards. They would pay a large annual sum to Harry's account in damages for the next five years. More importantly to Harry, he had been made an emancipated minor, which meant that he no longer required an adults permission to live where he wanted, and was no longer restricted by the Decree of Underage Wizardry. Ron had cheered under his breath in Harry's ear, and the green-eyed teen had smiled at his mate affectionately.

Hagrid's broad back was protecting Harry from the spectators and the press, and when the door closed behind them, Harry swung around to grin at his half giant friend.

"I'm emancipated!" he crowed, "It was worth it to be given that!"

"Are ye sure, Harry?" Hagrid's eyes were shadowed, but Harry had a pretty good idea why.

"Of course I am! Don't you see, Hagrid, no more miserable summers. And I can sign my own permission forms!"

Even Hagrid had to laugh at that, and he engulfed Harry in a very warm, rough hug. What he didn't say was expressed in the gesture and Harry patted the chest he was being crushed to in understanding.

"Yer parents would be proud of you, Harry," Hagrid muttered, "An'… yer godfather would be too."

"Thanks," the word was muffled, but heartfelt, and Hagrid let him go. The half giant led the way to the stairs.

"I don't fit in the lifts so well," he explained sheepishly and Harry laughed, willing to trudge up as many flights as he had to if it meant that he could get out of being squashed into a lift with nosy strangers. The Weasley's had already made plans with Dumbledore to take Harry and Ron home for the weekend, and he knew he was to meet them in the foyer near the fountain that the Ministry had unfortunately restored after the battle with the Death Eaters. Harry had the feeling that by the time the Daily Prophet got through with him he'd need the peace and quiet.

As luck would have it, they beat the Weasley's to the foyer, and Harry waited, half hidden behind Hagrid for his friend to arrive. There seemed to be quite a few people milling about aimlessly, and Harry wondered what else was going on at the Ministry to garner such a crowd. He was about to ask Hagrid when the lift opened and the Weasley's stepped out, looking grim, followed by the Dursley's. Hagrid stifled something that sounded like a chuckle and Harry smiled ruefully. Molly and Arthur would have had a hard time of it, suppressing the remarks they wanted to make in order to be good examples to their son. Ron would have been in a similar quandary - the redhead had a blazing temper when roused, as Harry knew.

He moved out from behind Hagrid, touching his friend on the arm in thanks, and headed for his friend. Ron spotted him and grinned a little anxiously, even as Dudley spotted him and scowled. He grunted something to his father, who turned and gave Harry such a scathing glare that had he been in Little Whinging, Harry would have run for his life. As it was, there wasn't much the Dursley's could do to him now that he was allowed to defend himself magically, though he didn't want to cause trouble by hexing them. He was better than that.

There was a shout and something shattered behind Aunt Petunia. Harry whirled in shock, pulling his wand and turning to face whoever had cast that spell. The crowd of people that had been milling in the foyer were either shouting in astonishment or getting undressed?

"Death Eaters!" Harry shouted, the grey robes and white masks sending a thrill of panic along his spine. The Dursley's were defenceless against these twisted men and women who considered Muggle torture a sport, and there was no way he wanted the Weasley's in contact with them either, especially Ron.

Time seemed to slow as Harry sent a disarming spell at the man who'd missed Petunia. He noticed that Hagrid was running forward, and sent a second spell at the nearest Death Eater, protecting the Grounds Keeper from his would be attacker. Sound returned to Harry with a rush, and there was a roar of power as the fountain in the middle of the foyer exploded, chunks of it flying everywhere. A glance showed that the Weasley's were protecting the Muggles, trying to drag the panicked trio towards the stairs that Hagrid was defending. It was the safest avenue of retreat there was at the moment, and Harry whirled into the chaos of shouting Death Eaters and civilians, doing his best to buy them time.

He moved fluidly through the chaos, dodging spells and curses that flew at him from all directions. He threw hexes of his own, used chunks of the fountain as missiles, threw a few punches and kicks that connected solidly, whirling and striking with all the grace of a lethal predator as his instincts took over. The chaos became his weapon, and he directed it the way a conductor directs a symphony, his magic surging to give his casting an edge over the adults he battled. Some small part of him noted that the Muggles and the Weasley's were safely away, with Hagrid following them. Aurors battled alongside him, and there were a few small piles of robes where a Witch or Wizard had succumbed to the magic flying about. He was very pleased to note that there were more grey lumps than any other colour and when the Death Eaters suddenly disappeared, leaving behind their fallen, it took Harry a moment to recollect himself.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice was cautious, and Harry turned slowly, wand pointing at the ceiling, his school robes swirling as he pivoted. His hearing seemed to return to normal and the moans of the injured and orders of the Healers and Aurors sunk in. He took a shuddering breath, the adrenaline rush leaving him shaken and unsteady on his feet, though he was determined not to show weakness to the Headmaster.

"Sir? Are the Weasley's safe? What about the Muggles? How's Hagrid?"

"Fine dear boy, they're just fine," Dumbledore was watching him with wary eyes, "You're unhurt?"

"Yes," Harry nodded shortly and swept the area once more for threats before lowering his wand, then tucking it away. The Headmaster gave him a small smile of relief.

"We'd best get you away, then," he murmured, "That was a most impressive piece of duelling, Mr Potter."

"Thanks," Harry said shortly, more interested in finding Ron and his parents. He wouldn't be able to relax until he had Ron safe and whole in his arms.

0o0o0o0o0o0

When Dumbledore suggested to Molly that Harry come back to Hogwarts and have Madam Pomfrey look him over, he was met with the iciest refusal he'd ever had in his life - Harry could see it in his eyes. Molly drew herself up and stated that she was as capable as looking after bumps and bruises as the next mother and Ron ushered Harry away towards the nearest fireplace with Molly fuming at their backs. Arthur went through first, and Harry was told to go next.

Arthur caught him as he fell from the fireplace and Harry grimaced. He _hated_ fire travel above all other forms of transport. Even the Knight Bus was preferable to spinning around through sooty heated air. His body was starting to report in, small aches and pains that made him uncomfortable and very glad to sit down. His right ankle was particularly painful and as Ron stepped out of the fireplace, Harry stretched his leg out with a grimace.

"Harry?" Ron hurried over and bent to kiss him on the cheek, "What's wrong?"

Harry was so startled by the kiss that he gaped at his boyfriend wordlessly. He'd always thought that if they were going to reveal their relationship to the Weasley's that they'd do it properly, not with a kiss.

"I wrote them ages ago," Ron seemed to understand what the problem was, which was one of the many things Harry loved about him. Harry leaned up and pecked Ron on the cheek in reply just as Molly stepped out of the fireplace, and she beamed at them kindly.

"He's hurt, mum," Ron dobbed Harry in straight away, "His ankle, and his left hand."

Harry glanced at his hand and was surprised to see his knuckles were torn and swollen. He had a vague memory of throwing several punches and hexes in opposite directions, which would explain it. Molly had his shoe off by now and was clucking over his ankle.

"I think it's sprained, dear," she told him, "Arthur, call Healer Reynolds and see if he can make a house call. Better to be safe than sorry."

"I thought I didn't need a Healer," Harry grinned cheekily and she snorted at him in derision.

"If you think that I am for one minute going to allow Albus Dumbledore to dictate your welfare again, then you must have hit your head in all that fighting," there was starch in her voice, "I know that you're emancipated and everything now, Harry, but I hope that you'll still let me mother you a little."

"Be an honour," Harry mumbled, flushing. Molly was the closest he'd ever had to a mother, and the fact that she was willing to take him on, baggage and all, meant a lot to him, "You and Mr Weasley are the best parents I could have."

"Thank you Harry," Arthur put a hand on Harry's shoulder while Ron beamed at his boyfriend from behind his mother, "Healer Reynolds is on his way, Molly. Why don't I help Harry upstairs to his old room."

"Can't he stay with me?" Ron protested immediately, which saved Harry from having to do it. He didn't want to be alone right now, and Ron was the best medicine he could imagine.

"Too many stairs for that ankle, and its closer to the bathroom," Arthur vetoed that idea, and Harry gave in. The tall man took a lot of his weight up the stairs and settled Harry in the chair at Percy's old desk. Harry pulled his wand out of his robes and then undid the fastenings. He was covered in dust and soot, and sweat from the fight and travelling, and didn't want to dirty Molly's clean sheets. He pulled off his other shoe and stood balancing on one leg to take off his robes, school jumper and tie. He untucked his shirt as well before sitting down again. Molly came in with a basin of water and some towels and started washing his face in such a matter of fact way that he didn't have time to be embarrassed by the attentions. She cleaned and bandaged his hand, clucked over his bruises and rubbed some kind of paste onto them, then started on the buttons of his school shirt.

"Er," Harry put his hands over hers, "I can manage, thanks."

She kissed his cheek and left the room with the basin over water. He changed quickly into the pyjamas on the bed and then scooted back so his leg was raised. That made the throbbing ease a little, as did the cold cloth that Molly came back with. Ron followed her in, dressed in casual clothes and climbed onto the bed with Harry, sitting so Harry's foot was elevated in his lap. The redhead rubbed Harry's shin idly while Molly sat in the chair that Harry had vacated and asked what had happened when the Death Eaters attacked. Harry described as much of the blur as he was able.

"Thanks for taking the Dursley's to safety," he ended his halting recount and Ron snorted.

"Yeah well, as tempting as it was to hex them and blame the Death Eaters," he muttered and Molly gave him the evil eye. Harry grinned in sympathy. The prospect of hexing that particular Muggle family was very attractive. Arthur knocked, and led Healer Reynolds into the room. Harry remembered the thin Healer from his bout of pneumonia, and smiled a hello. He remembered that this particular Healer was quite cranky with his patients, though he was apparently one of the best. Everyone had their little idiosyncrasies apparently, and that was his.

"What have you been up to this time, young man?" Reynolds asked sourly and ran his wand over Harry from head to toe. He pronounced his ankle sprained and one of his knuckles broken, which explained why his hand hurt so much. He rebandaged Harry's hand and then attended to his ankle. While Wizards could heal such things quickly with the use of magic, it was always recommended by Healers that the body did as much of its own healing as possible. Too much magical healing could make the body forget how to take care of itself. Harry was told to stay in bed until Saturday morning and see Madam Pomfrey first thing Monday morning. Arthur and Molly ushered the dour man out, and Ron moved up the bed to cuddle Harry into his arms.

"I'm only going to bring this up once, mate," Ron said quietly, "I'm sorry I never knew what you went through, and I'm sorry I never managed to find a way to keep you out of that house. You did a grand job of raising yourself, but even knowing that you were a house elf for those Muggles doesn't change the way I feel about you."

Harry wrapped his boyfriend in a relieved, bone-crushing hug. Ron didn't seem to mind.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry insisted on going downstairs for breakfast the next morning, and Ron was happy to help him negotiate the stairs. The kitchen was as warm and welcoming as always and Harry settled onto his seat happily. Molly and Arthur were both bustling around, Molly making breakfast and Arthur setting the table and tidying away the weekly accumulation of papers and odds and ends that the kitchen seemed to garner every week. Ron set the table, and Harry 'helped' by offering suggestions that were not really welcome. The Weasley's were grinning at him though, and the four of them sat down to their breakfast in a light-hearted mood.

Hedwig arrived halfway into breakfast and landed on Harry's shoulder, hooting anxiously and plucking at his hair. Molly clucked her tongue in exasperation and Harry made his owl go sit on the windowsill. Molly didn't approve of the way he spoiled his bird, though she was far too polite to come out and say so. He did his best to make sure that Hedwig behaved in company, and let her ride his shoulder or sit on his knee when they were alone.

Shortly after she settled, a stream of owls arrived at the window, all of them trying to land in front of Harry with their burden of paper. It wasn't hard to guess what the rolled cylinders were, and Harry took the magazines and newspapers from the owls as quickly as he could, an anxious feeling spoiling his appetite for breakfast.

"Well, best to know the worst straight away," Arthur took the nearest magazine and undid the tie, unfurling it and looking over the cover quickly before turning to the article in question.

"Well?" Molly asked, and Arthur put the magazine down, his face grave, but not too upset. Harry took that as a goood sign.

"Wizard Weekly - good solid article about the duel, and a mention of your emancipated status. They explained the trial and the circumstances that led to it, but didn't give any details of the hearing," he took another magazine and Molly picked one up as well.

On the whole, the weekly and monthly publications - all of whom had done a 'special' on the trial and the events that followed it - treated him with dignity. While some made more of the treatment he'd received at the hands of his Muggle Aunt and Uncle than others, none of them actually detailed the more embarrassing things, though plenty alluded to it in vague terms. Witch Weekly mentioned the possibility of getting Harry's breakfast recipes for a later issue, which made everyone smile for a moment.

"That's not too bad," Ron said encouragingly when they'd taken a tally of the articles. Harry shook his head and held up the Daily Prophet, still rolled tightly in its original tie.

"This will be," Harry's voice was grim, and he took a steadying breath before opening the paper. The headlines made him blush, and he didn't have the nerve to read further. The accompanying photo was the first picture that Colin Creevy had taken of him - he looked rather stunned and stupid in it.

"Potters knotted pants! Boy Who Lived or House Elf?" Ron sputtered and his mother snatched it from his hands. Harry hid in Ron's neck, and listened as the Weasley's sputtered and muttered over the accompanying article. Ron didn't bother reading the paper any further, turning all of his attention to comforting Harry once more.

"…a Howler!" Molly was exclaiming as she strode for her writing desk while Arthur burned the paper in the stove, his face positively thunderous. Harry was very glad that look wasn't aimed at him. Molly may be the more vocal of Ron's parents, but Arthur was just as strong willed and volatile.

"Don't you worry, Harry," Arthur bent over to rub Harry's head gently, "We'll sort them out."

"Thanks Mr Weasley," Harry looked up gratefully, "It means a lot that you'll try."

"Try heck! We'll have them out of business if I have anything to say about it!" Molly spluttered from where she was writing, "Ron, take him outside for a while. The tree house will be in the sun right now."

"Yes mum," Ron said straight away, "Come on Harry, you've never seen the tree house."

The tree house was built into an old willow by the pond that was fed by a stream that passed the Burrow. The tree itself had grown into the tree house, so that the branches interlocked together to form living walls and roof. Harry gaped at it in astonishment.

"The rule is that if you have friends over in the hols, you leave the tree house to the rest of the family, that's why you've never seen it," Ron chuckled at his gaped amazement, "And there are anti Muggle spells on it because the whole thing is built with magic."

To get up there, Harry had to stand on a pebble and enlarge it until he could - with Ron's help - step into the tree house itself. Being emancipated meant that the ban on magic outside of school was lifted for Harry, much to Ron's jealousy. Harry knew that Ron envied the freedom he now had, not the circumstances that led to it, and didn't take offence.

There were faded cushions on the floor, and Harry enlarged them too, so they were comfortable. It helped that Ron rolled them so Harry was lying on his back and then planted himself partially on top of him. Harry loved being pinned under Ron's weight and grinned at the redheaded teen appreciatively, sending one hand under his thick winter robes to play suggestively with Ron's arse while the other stroked his shoulders and chest lightly. The sun was indeed warming the tree house, and though it was nippy outside, right now they were warm and comfortable.

"You up for some hanky panky?" Harry asked lightly, and Ron rubbed his groin onto Harry's hip in reply.

"Soon will be," he confirmed in a husky voice, and leaned in for a kiss. Harry loved being kissed by the right Weasley and as that was often all they had time for at school, it was something that they did well. Ron knew how to make Harry moan, and Harry knew how to make Ron gasp. All in all they were champion snoggers.

"More," Ron demanded when he broke for air and lifted himself off Harry. Harry knew what that meant and undid first his fly then Ron's, pushing everything down just enough for bare skin to rub and glide warmly. Ron settled down with a satisfied groan and Harry's hand once more palmed his arse, fingers lightly stroking and squeezing the way they both liked it.

Harry urged Ron to speed up, wanting more of the glorious friction that was making him sweat and shiver in pleasure. Ron was all too happy to oblige, keeping his movements tender as he did, seeking pleasure by giving it. With his ankle, Harry couldn't really brace himself and return the favour, but this was just as nice.

"Oh!" Ron gasped, burying his face in Harry's neck and grinding them together. Harry felt himself explode in delight, Ron's gift bathing his already sticky and slippery groin, both of them crying out softly. They panted for breath in the aftermath, and Harry used his natural magic to clean them both up so that they wouldn't stick together. Ron mumbled in appreciation and shifted enough to do their pants back up before rolling onto his back and pulling Harry to lie on top of him, cuddling the green eyed teen close and humming in sated pleasure. Harry yawned sleepily and decided a nap was in order.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"What's the worst that can happen?" Mrs Weasley asked, her eye knowing as Harry hesitated on the hearth. He'd been quiet all day, not wanting to contemplate the reaction of the school to the news articles that were even now raging in the press. The Daily Prophet had come in for some pretty harsh criticism in the aftermath of its sensation seeking articles. Molly hadn't been the only person to send the paper an outraged Howler, and Harry hoped that the editor had fire insurance.

"They can tease him from now to graduation," Ron said gloomily. He'd also been worried about the schools reaction, mainly because he'd be the one dealing with a grumpy Harry. Harry saw Molly's sympathetic acknowledgement in her eyes, and the determination in Ron's and squared his own shoulders in response.

"I can live with that," he gave his boyfriend's mother a crooked grin and took a handful of powder, "Professor Dumbledore's office!"

The green flames swirled around him, and he tucked his elbows in nervously. He _hated_ fire travel and no amount of practice or experience would ever convince him otherwise. The landing made his ankle buckle, and strong hands caught him neatly, supporting him over to a seat nearby before he could even get his bearings. He caught his breath and looked up into the sharp eyes of his Head of House. Her hands were still on his shoulders supportively, and he blushed in confusion.

"Sorry, Professor," he cleaned his glasses nervously as Ron emerged from the fire, and hurried to his side.

"He sprained his ankle at the Ministry," Ron blurted before McGonagal could reply, and there was a tsking sound from behind the Witch in emerald robes. Madam Pomfrey brushed the Professor aside and whipped her wand out. Harry winced in anticipation but held still.

"I was told to come see you tomorrow," he told the matron, and she nodded absently, concentrating on her casting. Ron and Professor McGonagal were in a sort of huddle on the other side of the hearth, and Harry hoped that whatever they were planning wouldn't be too embarrassing. The Headmaster was standing behind Pomfrey, watching the school Healer with sharp eyes.

"I want you to rest that ankle, Potter. I'll give you some crutches tomorrow, and a note to excuse you from certain activities," Pomfrey muttered, "You're to go straight to your dorm and lie down, I'll send an elf with your dinner. I suppose I'd better include a meal for Mr Weasley too?"

"Yes please Matron," Ron said politely from where he stood, and Harry smiled at her in thanks. She sniffed and stepped back. Harry felt quite a shock when he realised that the school matron and his Head of House were here, not to talk to him, but to support him while the Headmaster had his say.

"I don't quite know what to say, Harry," Dumbledore said softly after a long pause, "I'm sorry seems so inadequate."

"Unless you personally instructed the Dursley's to act that way, it's also pointless," Harry shrugged, "I'm fine sir, and I don't blame you for this."

"You should," Harry wasn't sure which of the two Witches muttered it, but the comment hung in the air unchallenged. It appeared that the staff had diverse opinions on the information that he'd been forced to reveal in his trail.

"Needless to say," Dumbledore said at length, just as the silence verged on uncomfortable, "If you have any problems with the students, you're to come to me at once, Harry."

"Thank you, sir," some sort of response was clearly expected, but Harry wasn't sure what else he could say. His relationship with Dumbledore had forever changed, and Harry wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. Only time would tell that.

"Off you go then," McGonagal urged, and Harry stood obediently, letting Ron slip an arm around his waist and support him out of the office and its trio of tense adults. He stole a kiss from the redhead as the stairs carried them down, and Ron squeezed him affectionately as they stepped off.

0o0o0o0o0o0


	7. Chunk 7

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

Apart from a few curious stares, Hermione's sudden awkwardness around him, and Colin Creevey's rather embarrassing and unexpected hug, things at school weren't too bad.

True, Malfoy seemed to have acquired a permanently smug sneer that just wouldn't quit, and several of the Slytherins were seen whispering behind their hands, sniggering and staring at him. He ignored that, not wanting to get into an argument over his past.

The usual mail delivery on Monday was also mortifying, as the mothers of the Wizarding world sent him parcels of clothes by owl. Ron and Ginny had helped him get the parcels cleared away quickly, and he spent two whole nights writing thank you notes for a wide assortment of garments. Ron had held him close while he opened the parcels and helped keep track of who had sent what without the usual sarcastic comments. He'd even let Harry hide in his neck when he'd become overwhelmed by the generosity of strangers. The Cleansweep board had sent their usual packet of documents, without any additional comments, which Harry was grateful for. He didn't need their sympathy or pity, he needed their trust.

Snape had given him a very strange look, and Harry hoped that the Potions Master would keep his snide comments to himself, because Harry was in no mood to cut the irascible teacher any slack. The half expected comments were never aired in Harry's earshot however, which meant he wasn't expelled for hexing a teacher.

Ron was a rock. Harry couldn't believe how lucky he was to have Ron's unflagging support and affection through it all. His boyfriend wasn't obviously going out of his way to be mushy, but it was the little things that counted. Fetching a book that Harry needed from the library, or returning ones close to their due date and re borrowing them. Keeping track of their homework and reminding Harry of deadlines. The redhead once sat up for half the night and read through Harry's Arithmancy book, slipping notes on parchment into the pages with questions for Harry to consider. Harry found similar notes everywhere, not even related to schoolwork, just little hellos, off-colour jokes, and supportive comments tucked into his bag, pockets, books, and sock drawer of all places. Harry was collecting them all and storing them carefully away, each one a precious reminder that someone cared for him despite the Dursley's.

Things seemed to have settled down over the Easter holidays, and they took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather to spend as much time outside as possible. Mr Weasley and Remus came up to school to talk to Harry about the next part of his inheritance that was coming due, and Harry insisted that Ron sit in for this as well. He was shocked to learn that two more businesses were about to be dumped in his lap - one an Apothecary chain that was based in Diagon Alley, and the other a bookstore. It was called Jot and Tittle, and specialised in educational tomes for the Wizards who went on to study after seventh year. Harry couldn't remember seeing it, but then again he hadn't gone looking for bookstores in Diagon Alley.

"Hermione will be green!" Ron gloated as they headed for their dorm later that day, "A whole bookstore! Hey, will I get a discount?"

"Depends," Harry slid a hand down Ron's back to rest on his arse, the action hidden from prying eyes by the robes and the way Harry was standing. A second after he'd done it he panicked. What if Ron thought that he was serious?

"I knew you only wanted me for one thing," Ron laid that worry to rest immediately by shaking the arse in question and sending a distinctly flirty look over his shoulder. This was the first time Harry had been so bold, and the redhead only wanted to encourage it.

"Good thing I'm so good," he continued and Harry laughed, removing his hand to hold Ron's instead.

"That's not why I want you," Harry promised in a very husky voice and Ron all but dragged him to the redhead's bed.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Classes resumed, and Harry worked harder than ever. If he was to enjoy Ron for the rest of his life, he needed to ensure that there was going to be a rest of his life, which meant cracking Avada Kedavra and coming up with a counter curse. The difficulty of his self-imposed task never occurred to him, it was simply something that he had to do.

Monday on the second week of term found Harry waking with a mild headache, which he decided not to mention until he had to. He ate breakfast heartily and followed Ron and Hermione to Potions, reviewing his notes for the class as he walked. He thought that he'd probably swallowed that last bit of toast too quickly because his throat felt scratchy, but there was no time to run to the loo for a drink of water as Snape had the dungeon door open already and he didn't want to set himself up for trouble.

The smell of the classroom - always strong after years of potions being brewed and spilled - turned his stomach a little, and Harry swallowed hard, hoping that he wasn't getting sick again. He settled quietly at his desk and took notes as Snape lectured them on the properties of the ingredients they were about to use, and cleared his and Ron's desk while the redhead went to get what they needed, setting their cauldron over the fire and laying the kindling as Snape insisted they do.

There was a Merlin-awful smell, which got worse as Ron put their ingredients down and Harry retched, swallowing hard. Ron noticed and hurried to his side.

"You ok mate?" he asked quietly, not noticing that Malfoy had also spotted them.

"What's that smell?" Harry felt as if his sinuses were on fire and his stomach was in complete revolt. He had to keep swallowing against his gag reflex and the sour saliva that was flooding his mouth. Ron had a hand between his shoulder blades, his eyes wide with worry.

"What smell?" the redhead sounded worried, "You're going green. Are you feeling sick?"

"What's wrong Potter? This too much for you?" Malfoy's voice intruded on their discussion and Harry gagged as the blonde shoved something vile under his nose. He twisted desperately towards the still cold cauldron and threw up violently, falling to his knees as wave after wave of nausea swept over him. Ron's hands clutched him, supporting him as he retched and spewed, barely able to breathe between bouts. When he was empty he went into a series of dry heaves that had him moaning in pain, and Ron gathered him in his arms when he was done, using Hermione's hanky to wipe his face clean.

"What's going on?" Snape's cold voice sounded, and Malfoy sniggered.

"He can't handle this, sir," he gestured with whatever it was he was holding and 'accidentally' passed it under Harry's nose again. Harry convulsed and Ron had him up and over the cauldron again as the green eyed teen ejected his stomach lining, the sour smell of blood flooding his streaming sinuses and adding to his distress.

He was barely conscious when it was over, and strong arms picked him up out of Ron's loving ones. Because they weren't Ron's Harry fought them, struggling weakly to get away, crying out for his Ron and the comfort that only the redheads touch could bring. With Ron he was safe, with Ron he could be Harry, not the Boy Who Lived, or the freak, or the Quidditch Seeker, or Voldemort's enemy.

The touch he longed for returned and Harry clung to it as the world ceased to make any sense.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"We have to stop doing this," Harry muttered to the redhead asleep in a chair beside his bed. He was getting heartily sick of waking in the hospital wing, Ron exhausted beside him. There were screens around his bed, but he could tell it was breakfast time for the noises of the castle.

He sunk his fingers into Ron's hair once more and gently massaged the redhead's scalp. He'd learned that the quickest way to calm his boyfriend was to do this, and Ron was a slut for them. Sure enough, he moaned in his sleep and pushed his head into Harry's hand.

"Slut," Harry muttered fondly, obliging the subtle request by speeding his actions. This had the added benefit of making Ron quite horny, and it would wake him up as he sought to scratch the itch that Harry was giving him.

"Harry," Ron husked and dragged himself up the bed, still half asleep and looking for a mouth to kiss. Harry obliged him, enjoying the slick tongue that rubbed against his palate. He heard steps approaching and pulled his hand away shifting it to Ron's shoulder and pushing to break the kiss.

"Matron," he warned when Ron protested and leaned in again, and Ron woke up properly, his eyes wide in shock.

"Harry!" he exclaimed and leaned down to hug him hard, "You're awake!"

"Ron?" Harry hadn't been expecting this, but wrapped Ron in his arms anyway, "What is it?"

"Mr Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey pulled Ron away and Harry frowned, reaching for him again. He had to be satisfied with holding Ron's hand while she checked him over, and held on tightly.

"How do you feel, Mr Potter?" Pomfrey asked when she'd finished and Harry smiled at Ron as he answered.

"I'm fine. I don't know what it was that Malfoy shoved under my nose, but my stomach's settled down now."

"He had a handful of cloves, Harry. We've used them in potions hundreds of times. You had another… well whatever it is that made you sick last summer," Ron frowned, "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling ill?"

"I didn't think I was," Harry replied honestly, wanting to ease the small hurt he could see in Ron's face, "I'd been having small headaches for a few days, and they'd always gone away after I ate. My throat was a bit scratchy after breakfast, but I'd scoffed that last bit of toast and needed a drink of water to settle it. Before I just felt like I was coming down with some sort of 'flu, and this was different."

"Well, Healer Reynolds will have finished his breakfast soon, and he'll look you over then," Pomfrey clucked her tongue absently, "Mr Weasley, you need a shower, fresh clothes and something to eat. If I promise you a tray at Mr Potters bedside, will you go up to your House for the rest?"

"Yes Matron," Ron nodded and leaned over to hug Harry one more time, sneaking a kiss too.

"Healer Reynolds is here?" Harry asked, confused.

"He came the moment I realised that this was a repeat of the last few times," Pomfrey confirmed. Harry let her rearrange his pillows so he could sit up a bit and she fussed with his covers. He was starting to feel a little tired when footsteps sounded again and the dour Healer slipped around the screen, accompanied by Professor McGonagal, who exclaimed in surprise and actually hugged Harry. He hugged her back in shock, and she sniffed as she straightened, patting his shoulder and letting Reynolds have access to Harry's bed.

Harry had been ill for five days, during which time Ron had barely left his side. Once more, Ron had been the only person who Harry would suffer to have near him, the only person he trusted in his delirium, and the only person who could banish his fears, soothe his pain and calm his soul.

0o0o0o0o0o0

To Harry's relief, he was released from the hospital wing the day after he woke, his recovery so much quicker this time around that a longer stay was unnecessary. Ron insisted that Harry use the weekend of his release to have a rest, and Harry had complied on the condition that his boyfriend stay at his side. Ron had gone to sleep in Harry's bed, and slumbered peacefully for twenty-four hours straight, waking on Sunday morning with a sheepish grin and oddly sexy bed hair. Harry had used the time to catch up on his homework and make notes for Ron to do the same, a gesture that was highly appreciated by his boyfriend.

Their absence from class did not excuse them from Professor Flitwick's arduous Charms work either. In the sixth year, the Charms were increasingly difficult, and concentrated on animating objects to perform complex operations. Harry could see that this led directly into house keeping spells and some future careers, such as Healing and craft work. Flitwick had already shown them how to knit, which Ron turned out to have a talent for, and was now trying to teach them to animate musical instruments. He had turned the class into a sort of orchestra, though they were working with percussion instruments mainly, and the results were not encouraging.

Harry's return to class coincided with the individual turns of the class, where everyone had to show that they were able to play their 'part' of the complex rhythm that Flitwick was encouraging them to produce. He had already shown them what the percussion piece sounded like, setting layer upon layer of charms on the instruments and making them play simultaneously in a brilliant display of his field. The individual trials were less than impressive, as many people were having a hard time staying on tempo.

Ron and Harry were given extensions on the task as they had been absent for that first week of learning, and they spent most of the individual trials in a small classroom adjoining the main one, trying to master it themselves. Ron could get a simple rhythm going and hold it for quite some time, but the more complex rhythm was almost beyond him. He worked hard to master it, and by the time his extension was up, he nearly had it perfect. Gryffindor clapped the redhead enthusiastically, especially as Hermione had been the only other person to do that well.

They ran out of time for Harry to show his skill at the charm, and he wasn't too upset that Flitwick dismissed the class to lunch with the intention of letting Harry perform the charm on his instrument - a whistle - in private. Harry moved to look at the master score that Flitwick kept while the tiny Professor answered last minute questions from people who were obviously lingering.

Malfoy's annoying whine sounded in the background, and to block it out Harry called up his memory of the driving rhythm that Flitwick had demonstrated for them only weeks ago. They would attempt to play the whole thing as a group next lesson, and Harry wondered if his teacher hadn't bitten off more than he could chew with this particular assignment.

The master score held the notations that marked the rhythms of each instrument and the charms that needed to be said at each time to get them to play properly. Harry read them over a few times, mentally rehearsing the piece over and over again, the driving rhythm one that made his toes want to tap and his head want to bob in time. He reached the end of the score one more time and turned back to the beginning, his skin tingling, a light rushing feeling swirling through his chest. Without thinking about it he slipped his wand from his robes and twirled it around his fingers lightly.

He took a deep breath and raised his hands, facing the instruments that lay still on the benches. They floated obediently into the air and he started casting.

Magic rushed through him, and he was unable to stand still, bobbing and weaving with the flow, the rhythm and counter rhythms driving from his fingers into the magic and thence into the instruments. He bopped in place, waving his free hand sharply to direct the counter rhythm and stay on tempo. The sheer exhilaration that the piece was raising in him couldn't be contained, and he drove the music forward with a will. The finale came in a wild flourish and ended with an unrehearsed shout of joy. Sparks shot from his wand across the room and the instruments whirled in place before returning to their original resting places.

Harry gasped for breath, his empty hand grabbing for the edge of the desk to support him, a grin on his face so wide his cheek muscles hurt.

"Brilliant, Mr Potter!" Flitwick appeared at his elbow, "Well done, young man!"

"Wow," Harry gasped, "What a rush!"

Flitwick giggled, a sound that made Harry grin again in sympathy. His teacher patted his shoulder and sent him to lunch, and when Harry turned to the door, he met the astonished gazes of most of his Gryffindor year, half the Slytherins and a few students who seemed to have wandered in.

'Brilliant,' Ron mouthed at him and Harry blushed, grabbed his bag and his boyfriends elbow and headed for the Great Hall.

0o0o0o0o0o0


	8. Chunk 8

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

Things settled down for a while. Hufflepuff creamed Ravenclaw in an upset win at Quidditch that took the sixth years minds off Harry's display of musical ability to the point that he was forced to take extreme measures to get Ron to shut up about it and pay attention to more important things, mainly by pinning Ron to the nearest flat surface and snogging him senseless. Ron had emerged from the experience rumpled and glowing; he even made Harry promise to do that if his attention ever wandered again.

Towards the end of term, a duelling Tournament was announced, open to all students in fifth year and above. The students would duel each other first, then move on to duel the teachers to decide the Champion of Hogwarts. This was not an unprecedented move, as the Tournament had started way back in Hogwarts History, a way of identifying the most promising students for roles as protectors of the Magical world - something that Hermione told Ron and Harry about at great length over lunch just after the Tournament was announced. Ron and Hermione both intended to enter, and were very enthusiastic about Harry entering as well. He did so reluctantly, and only after spending a lesson listening to Malfoy boast about all the champion duellers in his line.

One reason for his reluctance was his desire to study for the Arithmancy OWL, which was fast approaching. It felt strange to be studying for another OWL exam, especially when Ron and Hermione were studying for the normal end of year exams. Harry and Ginny ended up spending a lot of time together in the library, consuming book after book, revising their notes and generally studying themselves into nervous wrecks. Harry was still working on the structure of Avada Kedavra at night, his need for sleep even less than before. He felt no lack, despite the fact that he was averaging a little less that ten hours a week, and even Ron's clandestine presence in his bed wasn't enough to make him sleep the whole night through. Thankfully Ron was a heavy sleeper and Harry's extremely early morning and late night studying didn't disturb him.

The Day of the Duel - and even Hermione was speaking about it in capital letters - was to be the last Sunday before the Quidditch finals match, between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Slytherin had made an extremely poor showing of it this year, and Malfoy seemed to be on the outs with at least half of his House. Harry wasn't too upset that Malfoy was finding himself isolated; he was more worried about duelling against Ron. If he let the redhead win, then Ron would know and be mighty pissed at what he saw as Harry's condescension to him, and if he beat Ron, then the redhead would be pissed that Harry had shown him up again. Either way, Harry lost.

Ron must have noticed something was wrong, because as the Gryffindors were heading to the Quidditch pitch where the duels would be held, he tugged Harry out of the throng of students and along the back way to the pitch that the team used when in a hurry. Once he was sure they were alone he pinned Harry to the wall and kissed him breathless.

"You fight out there, as hard as you can," Ron growled, gripping the robes Harry wore in both hands, pinning him at the hip with his own, "I expect you to win this thing, lover, no holds barred."

"But…" Harry's protest was cut off by Ron's tongue, which took his breath away once more. Ron's prick was digging into him, and Harry moaned into the wet mouth, pulling Ron closer.

"Win it Harry," the rough whisper absolved him of any guilt or doubt, "I know you can."

"I love you," Harry whispered and Ron chuckled.

"Of course you do. What's not to love?"

Harry sniggered and the redhead let him go, taking his hand instead and hurrying him along the corridor. They caught up with Hermione at the competitors stand and she gave them a strange look, before reaching over and tidying Harry's robes.

"Honestly, Ron, couldn't you control yourself for one minute?" she tsked. Harry blushed and looked at the ground; shocked that Hermione had known about them all along. Ron laughed, not at all fazed, and Harry gave her a sheepish grin. She smiled back, her eyes kind, and nodded once. Professor Dumbledore's voice called for their attention, and they all turned to look.

The Houses would duel in their year groups first, against randomly selected partners, until the House Champion for that year group had been found. They would then duel against the Champions of the other Houses in their year group to find the Champion of that year group. Those Champions would duel against each other in randomly selected pairs until the Student Champion was decided, and then the Student Champion would duel the teachers for the title of Hogwarts Champion.

The fifth years were up first, so the three friends settled down to watch, cheering for the Gryffindors in general and Ginny in particular. It came as no surprise that she emerged as the Gryffindor fifth year Champion, and Ron jumped up and down, cheering like a lunatic, Harry bouncing beside him just as delighted as if she'd been his own sister from birth.

The sixth years were up next, and Harry was paired off against Hermione first, who was a cunning opponent with a flair for the unexpected. She was also an excellent conjurer and Harry soon found himself dodging animated furniture and shock spells. He managed to turn one of the kitchen chairs she'd conjured against her and froze her in place, hastily conjuring a cushion for her to land on as her arms and legs snapped together and she went toppling off the platform.

The students in the stands were cheering noisily and Harry caught his breath, freeing Hermione and banishing the furniture. He helped her up and she grinned at him.

"Nice cushion. Thanks," she rubbed her elbow where the chair had banged it and Harry examined it anxiously, before looking around. Ron had beaten Seamus, and Neville had bested Dean. Lavender had managed to overcome Parvati, and was apologising to her angry friend.

In the second round Harry was facing Lavender, and disarmed her quickly while she tried to set up a complex freezing spell. Ron and Neville were hard at it, the redhead, ducking and diving shamelessly while Neville cast spell after spell at him. Harry was impressed at the rapid delivery that Neville was able to use, especially now that he had a new wand. Ron managed to get off a confusion charm that lasted long enough for him to disarm Neville, and Harry grinned at both his friends.

"You nearly had him Neville," Harry complimented the other teen and Neville grinned.

"I'm surprised it worked," he admitted, "I didn't want Ron to have time to get a strategy in place, what with all the chess he plays."

Ron grinned, breathing hard, and clapped Neville on the back. Harry looked around to see who was in the last round for House Champion in the other Houses, and groaned when he spotted Malfoy's smug little smirk. The noise from the stands was incredible and Harry did his best to put it in the back of his mind.

He faced Ron next, and Professor McGonagal warned them both that she wanted a good clean fight. She'd obviously heard about their skirmishes in Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was concentrating one lesson a week in duelling practices. Harry and Ron tended to fight rough, simply because they knew each other so well that the element of surprise was their only weapon.

Ron made the first move, and events blurred for Harry into a wild whirl of movement and casting, until he stood alone on the platform, Ron lying on a pillow on the grass, his arms and legs bound with magical rope.

"That will do, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagal smiled and Harry nodded, sucking in a deep breath and letting Ron loose.

"Thanks for the cushion, I'd have hit the ground pretty hard if you hadn't put it there," Ron muttered as Harry hauled him up, unable to hide the anxiety in his eyes.

"You ok?" the question slipped out, and Ron grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Fine," the redhead reassured him, "But if it will make you feel better I'll take it out of your hide later in bed."

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Harry spluttered, and they headed for the stands. A glance behind showed that Malfoy had bested his opponent and Harry sighed. Knowing his luck he'd get stuck duelling the blonde pest for the year level Champion title, and the little prat wouldn't play nicely. Ginny enveloped him in a hug, still jumping up and down and shrieking congratulations. Harry winced, thinking she might have burst an eardrum.

"Easy there!" Ron peeled her off, "Let the man breathe!"

Ginny swatted at her brother and they settled down to watch the seventh year's battle for their year champion. Harry couldn't recall the name of the girl that finally won for Gryffindor, as he tended to pay more attention to his year and the years below than to the older students. The Head Girl was in Gryffindor this year, but she didn't make it past the first round, much to Hermione's obvious surprise.

"Good luck, you two," Ron said as Ginny and Harry headed for the ground again, and Ginny waved back confidently.

"Kick arse, sis," Harry gave Ginny a self-conscious hug; rewarded by the smile she gave him in reply. He was paired against Susan Bones from Hufflepuff and she grinned at him nervously.

"Good luck Harry," she murmured as they brought their wands into position.

"And you, Susan," he replied courteously, disarming her the moment they started. With her wand in his hand he cast a containment spell, forming a shining blue wall around her that sparked when she touched it. This was advanced magic, and he'd only read about it in books, but the chance to try it out was too good to pass up. Professor Sprout called the match, and Harry took the spell down, handing the wand back to Susan gravely. She chuckled at him and headed back to the stands, seemingly unconcerned that the duel had lasted only seconds. A glance at the stands showed that Ron, Hermione and Neville were jumping up and down and he gave them a little wave, turning to watch Ginny dispatch her Slytherin opponent with a combination of a stunner and her dreaded bat bogey hex. He cheered her on and she grinned and waved to him. She'd be facing Luna Lovegood next, for the title of Champion for her year.

"How touching," Malfoy sneered and Harry rolled his eyes before turning to face the blonde prefect. His hair was a little messier than usual, and there was a smudge on one cheek. It looked like Terry Boot wasn't the pushover that Malfoy had assumed. On the other hand, Boot was weaving his way rather drunkenly from the field, with the help of Professor Flitwick.

"Ready when you are, Malfoy," Harry said politely. Professor Snape appeared at the side of their platform, and Harry bit down on the urge to groan in resignation. This was not going to be fun. The Head of Slytherin sneered at Harry and indicated that they should prepare for the duel.

Harry took a leaf out of Neville's book, and started casting spells so quickly that Malfoy had to do a lot of undignified jumping about in order to avoid the spells flying his way. Harry easily shielded himself from the few spells his opponent got off, and managed to trap the blonde in a cold fire spell, quenching it seconds later and disarming his unnerved opponent, sending ropes to bind him in place and following it with the containment spell he'd used on Susan just to be sure. Snape very sourly declared him the winner of that match, and Harry gave the wand he'd caught to the teacher, before removing the shield and ropes from Malfoy.

In the last duel, Harry ended up fighting Ginny, for the title of Student Champion, once she'd defeated the seventh year from Ravenclaw. The fight was a hard one, neither willing to give in. Ginny had a lot of strength in her casting, and was devious to boot. Her size worked in her favour, making her seem less capable than she was. She'd learned a lot from Fred and George, and probably Bill, the family curse breaker. The Weasley boys had a tendency to teach their sister as much as they teased her, which was why she was the top in her year. In the end Harry could only defeat her by conjuring some pretty strong illusions, and while she fought them off hit her with a sneak attack to disarm and restrain her.

"I'll get you for that, Potter," Ginny growled as he helped her up and he grinned sheepishly, brushing her robes down solicitously and escorting her back to the stands.

"Sorry Ginny," he wasn't really, he knew himself well enough to know that his competitive nature would not have been happy with second place. There was to be a break now for lunch, which the House Elves had organised to appear in picnic baskets in the stands. The day had been pretty warm, and sunny so far, but Harry could see a low bank of clouds on the horizon and the wind was picking up.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"So now we watch the teachers duel for the right to defend the title of Champion of Hogwarts, right?" Hermione passed the bottles of pumpkin juice around and Harry drank gratefully, accepting the sandwich that Ron shoved his way. There were bags of crisps in the baskets as well as fruit, and he was starving.

"Yes, thank Merlin; I'm exhausted," Harry mumbled through a mouthful, "Ginny wore me out!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere, bro," Ginny warned him, but there was that same light in her eyes that she got when she was teasing Ron, so Harry wasn't too worried. He kind of liked the idea that she was comfortable enough to tease him now, especially in the light of her former crush and the disastrous, life saving kiss at Christmas.

"Who do you think you'll end up duelling Harry?" Neville asked as the number of platforms reduced themselves. McGonagal and Flitwick were pairing off, as were Dumbledore and Snape. Professor Vector was squaring off against Madam Hooch while their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher faced Professor Sprout.

"Dumbledore, of course," Ginny said in an 'isn't that obvious' tone, and Harry shook his head. There was more to duelling than strength - you needed endurance, knowledge, stubbornness and sometimes luck. Dumbledore wasn't the only teacher who had these, and anything could happen.

"Flitwick's a champion dueller from way back, and Snape's got a bone to pick," he spoke up, "It all depends on how determined they are."

The students settled down to cheer for their favourite teachers, with most of Gryffindor cheering their Mistress on. It was a close run thing, but in the end a bit of luck and good reflexes saw Flitwick tied to the platform, with Professor McGonagal standing over him, breathing hard. Madam Hooch had bested Professor Vectra and Professor Sprout had managed to 'plant' their Defence teacher. The former Auror was visibly fuming with impatience as he fought off the grass that was growing all over him. Professor Sprout gave him a moment more and then cancelled the spell, handing his wand back courteously. Snape and Dumbledore were still going at it, and as they watched, Dumbledore managed to stun Snape into submission. Harry was relieved that he wouldn't be facing the irascible Potions Master, and from the look in Ron's eye the redhead felt the same way.

In the next draw, Professor Sprout faced the headmaster, while Madam Hooch took on Professor McGonagal. Gryffindor cheered for their Head of House once more, and the flying instructor was soon overcome. In battle, Minerva McGonagal was quick and precise, pressing every advantage and moving with a speed that was rarely seen in the classroom.

"She's wicked!" Neville gasped as they watched the Professor help her opponent up, "I never knew she could duel like that!"

"Me either!" Hermione looked shocked. There was a huge bang from the other duellists, and Harry looked over in time to see both the Headmaster and Head of Hufflepuff go flying.

"What happened?" Harry asked over the shouts of dismay, but those around him had been watching McGonagal and Hooch. Madam Pomfrey hurried over to check them both out, and pronounced them fine, but unable to duel any further. That left Harry facing his Head of House for the title of Hogwarts Champion.

Ron had looked at him anxiously as Harry got up to go and face his teacher. Professor McGonagal had been given a rest period while Professor Flitwick vanished all the platforms and built a single one for their duel. Professor Sprout and Dumbledore had reappeared to reassure the worried students, thought neither of them looked steady on their feet. They were sitting in the teachers box with the rest of the staff, and Harry had sniggered at the sight of Snape sulking in one corner of the box.

Flitwick was going to oversee the duel, and Harry bowed deeply to his Head of House. She took her Duelling stance, wand drawn back at eye level, other arm extended forward in a shielding position, her weight on her back foot. Harry spread his feet, knees slightly flexed and wand held level at his waist; ready to defend against anything she might send at him. They stood still, eyes glued on each other and Harry felt his senses expand, taking in all the noise and scents and air currents around him, his sight sharpening to take in the posture of his teacher in fine detail. He _saw_ her muscles flex and spun smoothly to one side, the stunning spell missing by a mile as he cast his own spell.

McGonagal leaned back out of its way, and Harry grinned at her with a rather feral expression as time snapped into an unusually hectic pace. Furniture, animals and plants all appeared on the platform as they threw spell after spell at each other, defensive shields and deflectors flaring and crackling around the fast moving opponents. Nothing stayed as it was conjured, the nearest objects to each opponent changing form and shape quickly as they tried to gain the element of surprise.

The Head of House was spry in her movements, preferring not to waste energy with unnecessary frills, and Harry was one continuous fluid motion. He didn't have time to get tired as he battled his way through her impressive defensive and offensive spells, his single minded focus allowing him to finally force a break in her protection and trip her, binding her magically moments later and Summoning her wand to his hand. He banished the furniture that was even now trying to attack him, and then called off the plants he'd conjured to attack his Professor.

"Congratulations Mr Potter," Professor Flitwick announced, "You are the Champion of Hogwarts!"

Harry bowed to the tiny man, and then released his Head of House, helping her up and bowing low over her hand respectfully before handing back her wand. Despite her loss she was smiling at him proudly, and pulled him into a hug that had him spluttering and blushing in surprise.

"Well done, young man. The Marauders would be proud, and so would your mother," McGonagal murmured as she released him and he grinned, flushing in pleasure at the compliment. They were both breathing hard after their efforts and it seemed odd to see his normally neat Head of House so dishevelled due to spells he'd been throwing at her.

"Thanks Professor," he mumbled, and she nodded once.

"Now, don't let the entire House stay up all night," she murmured, tucking her hair back up as they walked towards the cheering Gryffindors, "They've got exams starting the day after tomorrow."

That was tacit approval for the party that would rage in the tower tonight and Harry grinned.

"Yes ma'am."

They reached the stands and Harry was sucked into a screaming, cheering mass of his Housemates. Everyone seemed intent on hugging him or slapping his back. Several of the girls planted a kiss on him and he wasn't so sure that a couple of the boys hadn't as well. Just as he was starting to freak out he got to Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who sucked him into a group hug that also had the advantage of protecting him from the rest of their insane House. Ron copped a sneaky feel and Ginny stole a laughing kiss, as did Hermione. Hands ruffled his hair and then they were moving, heading for the tower and the feast that the house elves had laid out for them.

The common room was simply heaving with people, and the noise level was loud enough to drown out the spring thunderstorm that raged outside, the flashes of lightening that accompanied it fitting into the Weasley Whiz bangs that had made it past Filch's contraband search.

Harry started hunting people off to bed at three in the morning, citing his promise to Professor McGonagal and backed up by the Prefects and Head Girl. Harry was too tired for study tonight and slid into bed after the briefest of showers, asleep before he'd pulled the blankets up and unaware that Ron had snuck in with him until they woke, tangled together the next morning.

0o0o0o0o0o0

The storm that had started on Saturday night raged for the week of exams, rattling the castle in its fist like an angry child. Harry kept as low a profile as possible, after requesting that his House treat him no differently. He took his Arithmancy OWL on Thursday, missing a Potions class to do so.

Snape and the Slytherins had been riding him since the Tournament, though Harry dismissed most of it as sour grapes. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of responding to their jeers, and Snape watched him like a hawk, just itching to take points from Gryffindor for any 'arrogance' or 'trouble making' that Harry might care to display. Being on his best behaviour was tiring, especially when coupled with the intensity of exams, and when Harry woke on Friday he was feeling a little under the weather.

He got through his Herbology exam well enough but his head was swimming by lunch, and rather than risk fainting in the Great Hall, he headed reluctantly for the hospital wing, staggering across the threshold giddily and making it to a bed before he fell.

"Not again Mr Potter," Madam Pomfrey sounded upset, and Harry gazed at her blearily as she helped him lie comfortably. His arms and legs didn't seem to belong to him any more and moving them independently was hard work.

"M sorry," he slurred, "bin tired all week. Thort it wuz zams."

"All week?" she clucked and waved her wand. His school robes disappeared, replaced with hospital pyjamas and Harry nodded. It was not a wise thing to do.

"Sorry," he gripped the mattress as it heaved and spun under him and fled gratefully into the still darkness that was crowding the edges of his vision.

0o0o0o0o0o0

When his eyes opened again Molly Weasley was sitting beside his bed, knitting socks. The click of the needles was even paced, soothing, and Harry smiled at her, glad to see the frowsy woman who had mothered him from the moment they met, when she directed the lost boy he'd been onto Platform 9 ¾.

"Hullo," he muttered and pushed up in the bed, feeling drained but not too badly off. Molly dropped her knitting onto his bedside cabinet and sat on his bed, engulfing him in a very motherly hug. He sagged into her warmth, appreciating the touch even more now that Ron had taught him the benefits of hugs and cuddles.

"Harry dear, how do you feel?" she rubbed his back and rocked a little and Harry just snuggled on in, some part of him telling him that this was exactly the right reaction to this touch.

"Better, still a bit tired, but not so…" he trailed off and rested his head on her shoulder, eyes unfocussed as he accepted the comfort she was offering eagerly. Molly sniffed a little and hummed under her breath.

"Was it that bad?" he asked, wondering why she was there. Molly tightened her grip a little and shook her head.

"You were calling for your mother," her voice was hesitant, and Harry tightened his grip in response. His insides were whirling, as were his thoughts, which led to him blurting them out.

"You came?" his voice cracked suspiciously, tears filling his eyes, "I'm sorry, I know you're busy."

"Oh Harry, dear. Shush now, I'm never too busy for you," her voice was also suspiciously wobbly and he let his aching eyes close. If they were a bit damp when she put him back on his pillows she took no notice, and Harry didn't notice her own spiky lashes either.

"Now then," she went on in a brisker tone as the door opened and Madam Pomfrey bustled towards them, "I know that you're emancipated, but I want you to come home dear. We've plenty of room and I'd really like to know that you're eating properly. School ends in three days…"

"It's Tuesday? I missed the weekend? Who won the Cup?" Harry's questions elicited a snort from Madam Pomfrey, who waved her wand over him and then glared until he drank the potion she held out.

"There's nothing wrong with him," she muttered to Molly, "If he's already asking about Quidditch."

"Gryffindor won, Harry, Ron and Ginny were magnificent. They were both worried about you, but I told them to go on and play," Molly answered the question lightly, "You'd settled down for me by then you see, so Ron felt he could leave you."

"Poor Ron, he's been so patient with me," Harry plucked at the blanket over his knee, "He'd make a great Healer, I always feel better when he's with me."

Molly beamed and Madam Pomfrey patted his hand lightly. Harry remembered what Mrs Weasley had been saying, and smiled.

"I'd love to come to the Burrow, if you're sure I won't be in the way. On the condition that you let the Order give you some extra security. I might not like it, but I am a target at the moment, and I don't want to put you in danger."

"Done," Molly gave in so quickly that Harry guessed that Dumbledore had already made some kind of arrangement about the summer for Harry that involved spending time with the Weasley's. He didn't mind this bit of meddling, but if the Headmaster thought that Harry was going to put up with just any old thing…

The doors opened and Harry looked up. Ron was peering in, his school bag still over his shoulder. From the angle of the light, it was afternoon, which meant that classes must be over if his boyfriend was coming to see him while his mother was in the building. Not even Ron had enough front to ditch school while Molly Weasley was in the building.

"Harry!" his face lit up and Harry grinned. Madam Pomfrey was heading back to her office and the moment that the door closed behind her Ron had Harry in his arms, holding him close.

"Hi Ron," Harry sucked in a big lungful of Ron's comforting smell, "Sorry."

"I'm not mad," Ron promised, seeming to understand that Harry was apologising for all sorts of things, not just being sick, but needing to borrow his boyfriends mother, and missing the match, and making him worry. Molly made an approving sound and Ron kissed the side of Harry's neck discreetly before pulling back.

Harry smiled and settled on the pillows again while Ron hopped up to sit by his feet and start recounting the match with colourful detail. Some things were just too important to miss, and Quidditch was one of them.

0o0o0o0o0o0


	9. Chunk 9

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!

Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?

Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

I hope this ties up all the loose ends!

****

Growing Pains, by Shedoc

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hedwig refused to get in her cage. The grip she had on his shoulder was almost painful and her agitated hoots were starting to wear on his ear.

"Look Hedwig, Pigwidgeon is in his cage," Ron said encouragingly, holding up the battered cage with the small owl in it. Pig hooted wildly and flapped his wings about. Harry stroked Hedwig gently, trying to ignore the grins from Seamus and Dean as they watched his owl defy him.

"Sure, he can battle the teachers to become Hogwarts Champion, but can he get an owl in its cage? I think not!" Dean teased and Harry pointed a finger at him.

"Shut it," he was grinning though, and Ron was unsuccessfully muffling a smirk behind Pig's cage, "Alright, Hedwig, what will it take to get you in there?"

Hedwig folded her wings and looked away from him stubbornly. Harry sighed. Everything else was packed, in fact the rest of his dorm were just lounging around watching Hedwig give him grief. They were due to go down to the coaches in thirty minutes time and this was not what Harry had wanted to be doing. Rather than push things into a huge argument between them, Harry left Hedwig alone for the time being, deciding to make another attempt just before they headed to the coaches. He sat on Ron's rumpled bed with a shrug, and Hedwig hopped nimbly down to sit on his knee, gazing up at him with dark eyes. He tickled her under the wings gently and she ruffled her feathers at him. She'd been frantic when he got out of the hospital wing three days ago, and could barely be persuaded not to attend class with him.

"Harry," Seamus and Dean sat opposite on his empty bed, their faces wearing identical expressions of trepidation, "We…"

"Spit it out then," Ron rolled his eyes when Seamus stopped talking and fidgeted uncomfortably. Neville drifted over to lean on Ron's dresser, and Harry had the idea that their friend knew what this was about.

"We just wanted to say that we're sorry," Dean blurted and stopped when Seamus elbowed him, "Well we are! _You're_ not saying anything!"

"Idiot!" Seamus hissed back, his face going red, "D'you want him to think we're pitying him?"

"Gentlemen!" Harry sounded so much like McGonagal that they both sat up in surprise, "If you would be so kind as to get to the point?"

"That's creepy, Harry," Neville laughed from where he was leaning, "You do a great McGonagal."

"After all the times she's said that to Ron and I," Harry laughed, and the others joined in. Harry hated tense atmospheres and hoped that whatever Dean and Seamus were fussing over would stay unremarked.

"What those two are trying to say, Harry, is that we all think you handled the … Muggles you grew up with really well," Neville continued, and Harry wondered what words his friend had deleted from his description of the Dursley's.

"Yeah, all things considered you did a great job of raising yourself," Ron chimed in, and Harry gave him a look that promised payback at a later date. The other boys were making agreeing noises though and he stroked Hedwig lightly, wondering what to say. In the end a single word answer sounded best.

"Thanks," he grinned a little shyly. Seamus nodded and got up to check his trunk one more time. This broke the tableau and Harry was relieved that the attention was off him for a moment.

He wondered how long Seamus and Dean had been talking about this, and was relieved that they didn't ask questions about some of the things the Daily Prophet had printed. Harry was planning to actually start a new business when he was of age - a daily newspaper of his own, one that focussed on accuracy and truth in its reports, and one that wasn't open to political manipulation. He wasn't sure it would be possible, but he wanted to look into it. With the connections from his bookstore, Jot and Tittle, he would be able to find out more about the publishing and licensing laws that governed a paper at least. He and Ron would be going over the Jot and Tittle's business papers during the summer hols, and Harry was planning to get Ron in on the second phase of testing the new Cleansweep Quidditch brooms. The fact that the Chudley Cannons had agreed to test the brooms at their level of competition was not something Harry had divulged yet, and he was looking forward to seeing the look on Ron's face.

"We'd better get going," Neville collected Trevor and his trunk and headed for the door. Harry looked down at his stubborn owl.

"Please?" he asked nicely. She hopped back onto his shoulder and dug her talons into his robes defiantly. Harry sighed, shrunk her cage and floated his trunk towards the door along with Ron's, leaving the redhead to bring Pigwidgeon. Ron snickered as he followed Harry down the stairs and Harry made a mental note to remind Ron that revenge could be sweet.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Hermione and Ron spent the trip to the station discussing what they'd do once they were of age to do magic. Ron was planning to start practicing for Auror training and Hermione wanted to start learning household spells to show her parents. They'd never seen their daughter do magic before and she wanted to show them how useful it could be. Harry thought that she was also a bit excited to be able to show off what she had been learning for the last six years. At least Ron's parents had experience with magic and understood what his report cards meant.

Hedwig was still firmly attached to his shoulder, and was picking his hair over, making it stand up even more that before. Harry let her, it was a small price to pay to keep his beloved friend happy, and it wasn't as if his hair normally lay flat and neat. He hoped that she would behave herself at the Weasley's, because Molly definitely didn't approve of 'rude' owls, and Harry didn't want to get caught between them.

The carriages pulled up at the station and Harry flung the door open, stepping down and then floating everyone's luggage out. As he was an emancipated minor, the restrictions on magic no longer applied, and he didn't mind saving his friends from hauling awkward trunks about.

Hedwig hooted sharply in his ear and he twisted his head to look at her. She was tense, her head swivelling back and forth as she surveyed the small station and the teeming students. Something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he shrugged his owl into the sky, the floating trunks rising above head height as he tried to spot what was wrong with the familiar scene.

"_Cruciatus!_" a man roared and a swathe of third years fell screaming to the ground. Harry caught the ripple of the spell moving through the air and tracked it back to its origin, sending the trunks he was still levitating careening through the air to smash into the source. The third years stopped screaming and convulsing, and one of the trunks caught the invisibility cloak the Death Eater had been hiding under, revealing the grey robes and white mask to the rest of the students.

"Everyone back on the coaches!" Harry yelled, hoping that the thestrals would wait long enough to get the majority of the students to safety. Spells started raining on the massed students from all sides and he moved forward, targeting the rooftops and trees as best as he could.

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see that the majority of the Slytherins were pushing the younger students onto the coaches as quickly as possible. Most of his year, the seventh years and anyone who'd originally been in the DA had their wands out and were casting wildly about, hoping to gain enough time for the younger students to get away.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled as she took a stunner to the back and went down hard. He fought his way to her and crouched, trying to shield them both and drag her upright.

"Harry!" Ginny called and reached their sides. She took over their defence and Harry scooped Hermione up, backing over to a coach and wheeling to shove the unconscious girl inside. Several first years reached out to make her comfortable and Harry nodded at them in thanks. Then he grabbed Ginny's arm and pushed her in too, overriding her protests with an order to defend the carriage as it headed for the castle. The door slammed and the thestral pulling it broke into a canter, getting out of the line of fire.

Ron was duelling fiercely with a Death Eater, and Harry sent a reductor curse his way, watching as Ron whirled aside and let the spell hit his opponent hard, forewarned by the friendship and love he shared with Harry. The Death Eater went flying and Ron moved on, not even pausing for breath. That was the last that Harry had time to see, as the battle sucked him into it.

It was chaos, but Harry used it to his advantage. The station house was damaged and the rubble made handy projectiles. The air was rent with the screams and yells of the injured and the fighters as the students of Hogwarts battled the forces of the Dark Lord. For many, this was their first taste of battle, and it would also be their last. Harry swirled though fight after fight, flowing around spells and curses as if he were made of wind and water, blasting through opposition like fire and tracking the progress of the battle with the steadiness of a rock.

"Potter!"

The single voice cut through the battle as if the noise did not exist and Harry heard several of his classmates scream with horror as Voldemort himself stalked through the fighters as if they weren't there. Harry dispatched the Death Eater he was duelling with a simple punch to the nose and turned to face the person he hated most in his life. Magic was coursing through him in powerful waves, and for once his wand was entirely obedient, giving him none of the temperamental casting that usually occurred after a bout of his 'illness'.

"Voldemort," Harry's voice was cold enough to freeze, and he moved to balance himself on the balls of his feet. Voldemort was trying to catch his eye, and after a moment Harry realised the Dark Lord was trying the Legilimency spell on him. He scowled in defiance and shored up his mental barriers.

"I've made the mistake of duelling you before Potter," Voldemort hissed, the red eyes glowing insanely, "But not today. Today you die. But first…"

The foul being turned slightly and raised his wand. Harry followed the path the wand was tracing and his heart stopped when he realised that Ron would be on the receiving end of whatever the Dark Lord cast.

"_Avada…_"

Harry was already moving, throwing himself forward desperately as Ron turned from the silver handed Death Eater he had just bound to a tree, some sixth sense warning him that he was in danger. There was horror on Ron's face and Harry willed himself to move faster, to get there in time.

"…_Kedavra!_"

The hated green light flowed from Voldemort's wand almost lazily and Harry took that one last step, intercepting it with his outstretched hand, wanting nothing more than to _stop it_, wishing that his hand would be enough to absorb the spell, to protect the man he loved. Ron screamed - an agony filled sound that made Harry's heart bleed in sympathy - and he screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see those life filled eyes dull and glaze over.

Silence.

The battle stopped, as if a switch had been thrown.

Harry's body was in revolt, magic crackling around him in a visible aura. An aura that was mainly golden except around his left hand… where it was a foul green.

"What?" the roar shook the very ground they were standing on, and Harry opened his eyes. Voldemort was… shaking.

The energy in his left had was rapidly becoming too agonising to hold, and instinct prompted Harry to _throw_ it, to draw back his hand and pitch the foul, evil thing as far away from him as he could. He flung it with a wild cry and the green flew forward, engulfing the now cowering Dark Lord in front of him, crackling and consuming him in a cruel green fire that burned coldly.

Darkness surged over the self styled Dark Lord, a deep slimy green aura that became marbled with the lighter green of the Killing Curse. The veins swelled and spread over the foul creatures aura, engulfing it bit by bit as the golden light from Harry ignited it. Voldemort screamed, a nerve-scraping note that made all around him shudder in helpless sympathy as his body was engulfed piece-by-piece until there was nothing left but the fading notes of that soul wrenching sound.

Death Eaters Disapparated left and right as the students gazed at Harry in awe. The golden energy surrounding him flared brightly for a moment, then seemed to explode, lancing out to touch the huddled and broken bodies on the ground, forming a nimbus around each one that was slowly absorbed.

Harry turned unsteadily towards where Ron had stood, and sobbed once at the sight of his lover standing beside Peter Pettigrew, who was still bound to his tree. Ron was unharmed, and Harry managed one step towards him before he slumped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Harry woke the first time in the hospital wing, and could hear people shouting all around him while he was jostled unpleasantly. He thought that he could hear Hermione and Ginny in amongst all the chaos, and Ron's hands fastened around his, tugging at something he was clutching. Harry let go whatever it was, mainly because he knew that it was safe in his Ron's hands.

The second time he woke he was in St Mungo's and something had flashed. There was yelling again, and he didn't recognise any of the voices, which made him rather anxious. Ron wasn't there, Harry would have known in a heartbeat if his boyfriend was in the room and he wanted Ron's touch more than anything. It wasn't too restful in this stressful environment with so many people yelling and he slid back into the darkness, fretting that Ron had been hurt and he hadn't noticed.

The third time Harry woke he was home. The sounds and smells of the Burrow were unmistakable, and he smiled before he even tried to open his eyes, taking a deep breath and relishing the fact that he could hear Mrs Weasley yelling at the twins downstairs and Hedwig hooting from his bed post.

"Sleeping beauty awakens," an amused voice murmured and Harry's eyes shot open in surprise.

"Charlie!" he gasped, "What are you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on you for Ron," Charlie grinned and leaned over to hug him. Harry hugged back, sensing that Charlie - which meant the rest of the Weasley's - had been worried. Hedwig fluttered down to sit on his blankets and he rubbed her head affectionately.

"Hello," he told her, "Thanks for the warning back there."

"She attacked a couple of Death Eaters, or so I was told," Charlie also reached out to pet the snow white owl, "Lestrange almost lost an eye."

"Well done," Harry praised her and she hooted proudly before launching herself from his blankets and out the open window. Charlie leaned over and rang a small bell that was sitting on the bedside table and Harry realised he was in Percy's room again.

"How are you feeling?" Charlie helped Harry sit up comfortably, and Harry took stock. It felt like someone had tied heavy weights to his limbs, and there was a dull nagging ache in his left hand.

"Not too bad," he didn't want to complain, seeing as he should be dead by all accounts, "I'm hungry."

The door opened as he said that and Ginny squealed, running forward to throw herself on the bed and wrap Harry in an enormous and enthusiastic hug. The rest of the household reacted to the sudden noise, and it sounded like a herd of Hippogriff's was stampeding for Harry's room. He wrapped his arms around Ginny in surprise before Charlie prised her off and caught his breath in time to be hugged by Molly Weasley. Charlie had Ginny on his lap, both of them grinning as Molly eased back and Arthur took her place, hugging him too. When Arthur stepped back Fred and George reached out and _petted _him like he was some kind of favourite animal, and then Ron was there, climbing onto the bed and cuddling Harry close.

"Are you alright?" Harry squirmed, trying to check Ron over while Ron tried to hold him still.

"I'm fine you lunatic!" Ron scowled, "Calm down! I'm not the one who caught the Killing Curse with his bare hands!"

Harry looked down at his left hand in surprise, the final events of the battle flooding back. The hand was slightly withered, like an apple left in the sun for too long, and on the palm and back of his hand there was a lightening bolt that matched the scar on his forehead. The entire family was staring at it with him, and Harry frowned. Not another scar to be famous for!

"How do you feel, dear?" Molly asked. Charlie spoke up before Harry could, and Harry grinned at the freckled redhead.

"He's hungry!"

Molly was out of the door in a heartbeat and the twins followed, laughing and promising to come back and see him as soon as they'd called Bill, who'd been summoned to work for an emergency.

"You've all been waiting for me?" Harry asked, his cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment. Surely they had more important things to do than wait for him to wake up from a nap. When he muttered something to that effect in Ron's ear his lover snorted and hauled Harry closer.

"You've been unconscious for three weeks mate," Ron replied in a low voice, "The Healers weren't sure if… when you'd wake up. Mum and Dad insisted that you come here after that reporter got into your hospital room with a camera."

"I remember a flash," Harry confirmed, "And lots of shouting."

"Do you remember giving me your wand?" Ron asked curiously, "I swear your eyes opened for a moment in the hospital wing at school, but no one else saw it."

"Is that what I gave you? I know that you were pulling on something," Harry smiled crookedly, "I thought that whatever you wanted would be safe with you and let go."

"The teachers were all freaking out because they thought that you might attack someone before you regained control. Your magic kept throwing protective shields around us, even though you were unconscious. Professor Dumbledore had already tried to disarm you and almost got thrown through a wall, you see," Ginny sniffed and Charlie rubbed her back to calm her temper down, "Hermione and I were trying to tell them that you were safe, and Ron just stormed up to the bed and took your wand from your hand."

Ron grinned at Harry and pulled his wand out of his pocket. Harry took the familiar object and examined it for damage before sticking it under his pillows. He made a mental note to thank Ron later in private, and then frowned.

"Three weeks?" he exclaimed and everyone laughed at him. It was kindly sound though Harry pretended to scowl at them for effect. No wonder he was hungry.

"Professor Snape has been coming every day with potions for you," Ron mumbled, reluctant gratitude lacing his voice, "The slimy git saved your life."

"He got into a huge row with Healer Reynolds though," Charlie grinned in remembrance, "The Healer hexed him."

Harry gaped at them and settled more firmly against Ron as the Weasley's caught him up on the news of the Wizarding world. It never occurred to him that it was odd for the entire family to camp out in his room, though he couldn't fail to notice how tightly Ron was holding him and the tenseness of the body he was snuggled up to. Harry laid his head on Ron's shoulder and let his adopted family talk, asking questions now and then to prove he was listening.

He had a feeling that he and Ron had quite a 'debriefing' coming up.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"That's mental," Harry tossed the newspaper back onto the kitchen table, "I'd be a rotten Minister for Magic."

"I don't know, we'd get a lot more funding for Quidditch," Ron pretended to take the suggestion seriously and Harry snorted. He'd been allowed out of bed for a week and though his magical energy was still quite low he felt a lot better.

"Harry, dear, the Headmaster is coming in an hour," Molly reminded him and Harry sighed, heading upstairs to clean up and get dressed. He and Ron had gotten into the habit of either staying in bed together all day - reading or sleeping for the most part - or they would make a nest of blankets and cushions out in the garden and Harry would rest there.

He still felt as if there were weights attached to his bones, though that feeling had lessened somewhat, and the more he slept the better he felt. He hadn't even considered attempting magic at the moment, Healer Reynolds had warned him that his energy was far too depressed and any attempt to cast a spell while he was still recovering would not only make his convalescence longer but could put him back in his coma. Knowing how stressed Ron and his family were, Harry didn't even bother carrying his wand with him.

On the plus side healer Reynolds had sat down with Harry and discussed his periodic bouts of illness with him. The Healer had a theory that the illness was actually tied in with puberty. His body was growing quickly at the moment, and his magic was also surging as a result. Reynolds had explained that the magical strength of a Wizard was often determined during puberty, and that sometimes Witches or Wizards went through one bout of illness as their magical strength surged and their body fought to accommodate it. The fact that Harry had been suffering from it at periodic intervals indicated that he was a lot more powerful than people had first thought. Harry had taken the time to ask all the questions he'd been worrying over, appreciating the Healers honesty with him. At least he knew where his future now lay, and what he could expect from his magic in years to come. Reynolds thought that the illness wouldn't return again, or at least not for a couple of years. Harry was relieved to hear it and had shared that piece of news with the Weasley's immediately.

He was munching on the biscuit that Molly insisted he eat while he waited when his visitors arrived. Aside from Professor Dumbledore there was a very subdued Minister Fudge, Remus Lupin, Healer Reynolds, Aurors Kingsley and Tonks, Professors Snape and McGonagal, Madam Bones, Madam Pomfrey, and several people Harry recognised as being a part of the Wizengamot, though he couldn't recall their names. The Burrow, which had always seemed cosily full of Weasley's, suddenly became suffocating overcrowded, and he got up from the table.

"Not in here, outside," he muttered and Ron gave him an understanding grin, heading for the garden with Harry's hand in his. Harry was stopped by Professor McGonagal and Madam Pomfrey, both of whom hugged him hard, and Remus, who Harry hugged back gladly. Molly conjured a paisley patterned swinging seat, complete with canopy and violently clashing lime cushions and Harry joined Ron and his adopted mother on it while their guests conjured chairs of their own.

"You're looking better, Potter," Snape was sprawled incongruously in a green beanbag chair, and Harry bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

"I'm feeling much better, thanks sir," he replied in a suspiciously calm voice, "Ron told me that you brought potions when I was unconscious. Thank you."

Snape inclined his head with a sneer and Harry let the subject drop. Fudge was fidgeting on his leather armchair, and before anyone else could speak he took a deep breath and launched into what was sure to be a long speech.

"Well, Mr Potter, once again the Wizarding world owes…"

"Minister!" McGonagal snapped the word out, and everyone straightened up like they'd been caught playing games in the back of her class, "We agreed not to tax Harry's strength with pointless speeches."

"I think you'll find, Minerva, that I was not making a speech, but about to ask a question," Fudge bristled and Professor McGonagal raised a quelling eyebrow at him. Healer Reynolds cleared his throat and the Minister subsided, sulking. Arthur Weasley popped in under the willow tree and walked up the garden, greeting their guests as he reached them. Molly moved up a bit and Arthur squeezed into the swing seat with them, everyone crowded together comfortably, arms around each other for balance.

"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, "The purpose of requesting this meeting is to ask you what precisely happened on the last day of term."

Harry nodded and looked down at the grass for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. This wasn't going to be easy to explain, not because he was afraid but because a lot of his actions had been driven by instinct. Hedwig returned from her morning flight and fluttered down to perch on the edge of the canopy, hooting happily at finding him outside.

"Well, I guess you know about the initial attack," he began slowly, thinking ahead, "The Slytherins got the younger students to the coaches while Hufflepuff defended them, and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor attacked the Death Eaters. It was funny, the houses just split into action like that, without anyone planning it."

Ron's arm tightened around his shoulders in remembrance. The redhead had caught Peter Pettigrew, who had cleared Sirius' name reluctantly. Harry had read all about it in the back issues of the paper that Molly had saved for him. That battle with his former pet had been difficult for Ron, who'd had to cast some serious spells to defeat the cunning and deceitful Wizard.

"When Voldemort appeared, things were about even still. We'd lost some people, but so had they," Harry continued, "He said that he was just going to kill me, but I guess he wanted to make sure that I was really distracted first, because he cast the Killing Curse at Ron. I heard him scream and threw myself forward to stop it."

"But how did you know that you could?" Madam Pomfrey asked, "It makes no sense, Mr Potter."

"During the summer hols after Sirius died and the Headmaster told me about the prophecy linking me to Voldemort, I decided to study Arithmancy," Harry looked up at her, "You see, I decided in the first three days that I was going to make some changes so Voldemort could never catch me out like he had in fifth year again. The battle at the Ministry showed me that using the Unforgivable curses made me feel ill, and I didn't want to… well… sink to his level. I know that sounds arrogant, but you can't get rid of evil by becoming it, and I felt that would happen if I started using Unforgivables."

"What has Arithmancy got to do with it?" Professor Snape asked, and Harry glanced at him. He alone might understand this concept better than the others, because he had once walked a darker path.

"If you're going to fight dark with light, you need first to understand it. For the past year I've been trying with Ron and Hermione's help to break down the Arithmancy behind Avada Kedavra, so I could design a counter spell."

The adults around him exclaimed in surprise, and Ron pulled his wand out to summon Harry's blue leather book. Harry let his lover pass it over to the Headmaster, who flipped through the pages with an avid look on his face.

"I figured out enough about the spell to know that feeling and intent goes a long way with this particular casting, so I was trying to formulate the counter feelings and intent," Harry explained in a quiet voice, "When he cast that spell though… I didn't want Ron to die… and I guess my motives were pure enough because I stopped the spell with my hand."

The withered hand in his lap flexed slowly. Harry had a feeling that it wouldn't get much better, though he was determined to learn to cope with it as best as possible. Professor McGonagal straightened from where she had been peering at his work and got up to hug him again, much to his embarrassment.

"My magic surged out of control, and my instincts took over. I just wanted it all to stop, no more fighting, no more hurting. The magic took over, though I knew that I had to focus on what I wanted and why I wanted it. I don't think he's dead, just locked away where he can't hurt anyone ever again," Harry took a deep breath and leaned into Ron's shoulder, resting their heads together. He was tired again, and grateful that the adults around him were focussed on his Arithmancy book now that the tale was told, rather than peppering him with countless questions.

"Which is why, when the Dark Lord was gone, you were able to cast a powerful Healing charm on those who had fallen. You saved a lot of lives, young man," Reynolds gave him a twitch of the lips that Harry took as a smile, "That's quite a talent."

"Well," Fudge harrumphed after a moment, "I guess that our concerns can be laid to rest."

"I'm not evil," Harry confirmed, "I'm not the new Voldemort."

Fudge had the grace to be embarrassed, even though he'd been hinting at that in the press where the Wizarding world could all see it. Ron tucked Harry closer and glared at the Minister with impunity, as did his parents. Harry closed his eyes and let the Weasley's take charge, luxuriating in the knowledge that he finally had someone to do that for him when he was feeling low.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Ron was grinning at him with that particularly wet look he got when Harry had drooled in his sleep, and Harry wiped his chin reflexively. Sure enough, his hand came away wet and he blushed, wiping his face properly and smacking at Ron lightly when he laughed.

"Sure, make fun of me when I sleep," Harry mumbled and hitched himself closer. They were in the tree house, allowed to break the holiday rule because Ginny had gone to visit Luna Lovegood, and the rest of the Weasley's were at work.

Ron and Harry had taken advantage of the privacy by stripping down to their underwear and achieving a tangled sprawl on the cushions. Ron chuckled and messed up already messy hair affectionately. Harry grinned into the side of Ron's neck and sighed in contentment. He judged that Ron's mood was as good as it would get, and brought up something he'd been thinking about for a while.

"Hey Ron, would you be mad if I didn't go into Auror training with you?"

There was a moment of thinking silence, though the body Harry was curled against didn't tense or pull away. When Ron spoke his voice was curious, lazy and still content. He reminded Harry of Crookshanks dozing in the sun, though Harry wasn't stupid enough to mention it.

"What would you like to do instead?"

"You said that a member of your family became a Healer because he could do wandless magic. Mine's been coming back slowly, and when I asked Healer Reynolds about the course work I'd need to do he said that what I was already taking for NEWTs would suffice."

"Mmm, that's true. Healers get specialty training, so as long as you'd covered the broader topics and had high enough marks…" Ron mused, "Mum would be dead proud, and it might be handy to be the live-in of a Healer, especially while I'm going through Auror training."

"You're not my live-in," Harry murmured, relieved that the response had been so favourable. He never wanted to be in a situation where he lost control of his magic like that ever again. He was not an evil-minded person, but the thought that he might lose control and hurt innocent people was terrifying.

"You're my everything," he lifted up to look at Ron solemnly. The look he got in return was the best reward anyone could ever give him.

The End


End file.
